Darker
by Arsosah
Summary: A week after my parents' accident, the nightmares start. I tell my brothers I don't remember them, but that is a lie. They're not just dreams. I'm starting to think they're memories.
1. The crying

**Darker  
**

**Chapter 1 - The crying**

_Someone is crying._

_I sit in the living room alone, looking down at the toys I am playing with- the little tower between my legs and the block in my hand, ready to take the place on the top of it. I can feel the shape, the sharp corners that digs into my small hand when my grip around it tightens, just before I place it upon the blue one. The tower sways - I hold my breath. A green block lies next to my foot, and I take it. This time the tower falls, and the pieces hits the carpet with low thuds. I blink._

_Someone is still crying._

_It's not Darry. My oldest brother almost never cries, and when he does, it's only angry sobs with no tears. He use to clench his fists and crumple his face in a way that looks bad, and he curses under his breath when he thinks no one can hear. It's not him._

_It's not Soda either. When Soda cries, it's loud and wet, and he always tells why, what happened. He sniffles through his story with lots of details, how his knee or nose ended up bloody, and he lets Mom hug him during it, and then comforts me when I start to cry too. I always do when Soda cries. He always makes sure that everyone else also can feel his misery. It's not him._

_I grab a new block, determined of building up my tower again, grab and place the blocks on top of each other, red, blue, red, green, yellow. It collapses. I whimper._

_The crying continues. The sound comes from behind a closed door, and the someone tries to hide it. It's muffled, but the walls are too thin to hold it. I can hear the door creak, the cries gets louder for a second before it is shut again, and then there is a soothing voice. My Dad is the one who talks, and even though I'm little, I'm aware of who's left._

_It's Mom._

_I crawl up to my feet, hold myself onto the coffee table to find my balance. The sun shines through the window, hitting my eyes, and I sqeeze them, takes a step and almost stumble over the blocks that lies cluttered over the floor, wooden colorful squares made by Dad, first given to Darry a long time ago. Now they're mine._

_In my mind, the crying increases, fills the room like a hurricane. I let go of the table, place my fingers into my ears. I start to scream, but no one can hear me. Not even me._

xXx

I know we have to adjust. I know it lies on all of us to make it work, but instead of helping out, rise myself from my bed and get ready for school, I just hide further down underneath my blanket when Darry calls. I know it's only a matter of time before he will stand in my doorway, but I don't care. I have the right to stay home, in my opinion. I hear his steps down the hallway, how they stop, but I lie still, my only movement is my breathing.

"Ponyboy!" He knows I'm awake. How, I can't tell. I groan under my cover.

"Go _away_, Darry." I know he check his watch without looking up. He's predictable.

"I don't have time for this," he tells me, somewhat annoyed. "Get up."

I don't move. Only seconds later, the blanket are ripped off from my body, and I glare up at him. I had thought it would've taken a bit longer time, more nagging before action. Maybe it's later than I think it is. My brother's face tells me not to continue this behaviour, but I pretend not to see.

"I don't wanna go," I mutter, hugging my pillow. For a moment, his face is smooth, but then he puts on his harder expression again and leans over me, takes my pillow from my grip and drops it on the floor. I sigh.

"If you don't wanna end up in a boy's home, you'll get ready for school," he threatens. "_Now!_" Of course he would use his most effective weapon, but I knew I would lose this battle from the beginning anyway. So I stop arguing, sit up, swing my legs over the bedside. The floor is cold.

"Fine!" He doesn't move. "I said _fine_!" I repeat with emphasis, still glaring. He looks at me, seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. I rub my eyes when he leaves, remember how the mornings was only a week ago.

I really want them back.

xXx

By the time I walk into the kitchen, clean and dressed with greased hair, Soda place our breakfast on the table. I stare at the plates with a grimace, not even able to tell what it is. Darry hurries to gulp down coffee standing by the counter, his jacket already hanging over his arm. He puts down his cup, points at us.

"Make sure Steve picks you up in time."

Soda sits down, lifts up his fork. "Sure," he says.

"Drop Pony off first, and don't go until he enters-"

"Darry," I interrupt. "I'm not a little kid."

His gaze tells me that he thinks I am. "Just make sure he arrives safely," he tells Soda, who manages to grin. I don't know how he does it. "I'll see you both tonight. Go home straight after school." Suddenly he looks uncertain. "Pony, I don't know who's gonna pick you up," he says, searching in his pocket for his keys, but his eyes never leaves mine while he does it. "I have to work, and the other's still in class at the time." He frowns. "Maybe you can wait on the school yard, but it's cold outside and it will be for an hour."

"It's okay. I can walk home." I've done it before. Usually Mom picked me up, but now and then it happened she was occupied.

I don't want to think about Mom.

"You sure?" Darry almost pleads, and I nod. I like to walk, and the way is short.

"It only takes ten minutes," I tell him, propping food in my mouth.

He looks relieved, and his hand comes out of his pocket, keys in it. With a last good bye, he leaves, muttering all the way to the door about being late, and Soda and I eats our breakfast. It tastes different, looks different, and I hate it, even if Soda is the one who made it.

"How do ya feel?" Soda asks me, always sensitive about my mood.

I pick in my food, not sure if I want to eat more. "I'm okay," I say. It's not true, and he knows it. He's not okay either.

xXx

My middle school lies closer to home than Will Rogers High School, and it's not a foreign place for me. Yet the big, red brick building feels unfamiliar when the others drive away after dropping me off, and not for the first time I wish I was older, old enough for High School too, or at least that one of the others had been at my age. But the closest is Johnny, and he'll soon turn sixteen. I stand on the school yard, watching the backlight of Steve's car, when he suddenly makes a turn and comes back down the road. I have no idea why, until Soda leans out through the passenger window next to me.

"I promised Darry to look when you walk in," he says, and I stare at the snow covered ground, feeling embarassed. Mom never did. She always just dropped me off and left. It feels like Darry doesn't trust me, even if I know he probably does this because he's not used to taking care of us.

"Kid," Steve says from behind the wheel when I haven't moved for the last minute. "Hurry up. We ain't got the whole day."

I give them all a last glare before I start crossing the yard. Just before I open the front door, I turn my head, sees that the car is still there. I curse for myself when I rip the door open and enter. I hear how Steve hits the gas pedal, how they speed up again. I suddenly feel alone, even if the hallway is crowded with kids.

I hate my classes, I really do. I hate the pity in my teachers eyes and the fact that my classmates doesn't seem to care at all. That their lives just continues, like nothing has happened. And for them, it hasn't. It's only me who is affected by the last week's _incident_.

I don't want to think about it.

I work in a daze. Before I came here today, I thought I shouldn't be able to do a thing, but I notice I don't have to put much effort in it. I do my math, my english assignments, I count and read and write automatically. And then, just before lunch, someone knocks at the door to our class room, and the school counselor sticks in her head. I don't pay attention until my teacher says my name.

"Ponyboy?"

I look up.

"Mrs. Ellis wants to have a word with you." My teacher smiles and the counselor does too, and I hesitate - I don't want to talk to her. I don't need it. But making a scene is never good, especially not now, so I slowly drop my pen and stand up. After a quick glance at the clock on the wall, I gather my things and take them with me. When I step out of the room, I feel how Mrs. Ellis puts her hand on my shoulder. I had shrugged it off if it had been a normal day, but it's not. My days will never be normal again. So I let it remain, even if I really don't like to be touched by her.

Her office, _room_ as she calls it to make it less strict, is small. It contains a bookcase, a desk and two armchairs, and I have been in here twice before, after fights not started by me, but with me in the receiving end of another's fists. She tells me to sit down, and I do, uncomfortable. I'm very aware of what she will talk about, and I don't want to. I don't see the point. Talking won't bring them back. Nothing will.

"How are you, Ponyboy?" she asks me, after sitting down beside me in the other chair, not the one behind the desk. I shrug. It's a silly question, really. If I say _fine_ or _okay_, she'll know it's a lie, but telling the truth is not an option. It would just make me cry, and I don't cry in front of strangers. When I think about it, not in front of family either. Maybe in front of Soda, if necessary.

And that's when I suddenly remember my dream.

I try to recall it - if it was just some sort of nightmare or if it could be a lost memory- but I can't tell. I frown, forgetting where I am. The blocks are real, I know, they were my favorite toys when I was about one or two and Dad gave them to me, a heritage from my brothers, but I can't remember Mom crying ever - only on her parents funerals when I was seven and nine. But I guess it doesn't mean anything, it was just a stupid dream anyway.

"Ponyboy?"

I realize that Mrs. Ellis has said my name three times already, and this time with a worried tone. I look at her, sheepishly.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's hard for you," she tells me. "I know how you feel right now." I wonder how she can know. Maybe she became an orphan too, at the age of thirteen, even if I doubt it. But I let her talk, because if she does, then I don't have to. I don't really listen to what she says, until she stops, then I make sure to look interested. But I keep my mouth shut, and she just looks at me for a moment.

"I'm here if you need me," she finally adds when I still say nothing, bobs with her head, making her red curls sway.

"I have my brothers," I inform her. I don't want her to think I'm in need, or lonely. I don't want her to think I can't cope with this - I'm real scared of being taken away, and even if Darry got the custody, I know it can happen anytime.

"That's good, Ponyboy." She smiles.

"Can I go now?" I accidently let slip, and I want to curse myself. I should play her game, make her go off my case, but I really don't know how I'm supposed to act to make that happen.

"Well," she starts. "I can't keep you here against your will, but I think it would do you good to have someone to talk to." She opens up a small calendar that lies in her lap. "What do you say about seeing me every Monday at eleven? You have an hour lunch break that day."

It feels like I don't have a choise. "Oh... okay." I stare down at the floor. It's dirty.

Mrs. Ellis puts on a big pair of glasses, and I can see how she scribble down my name in the little rectangle called _Monday_ next week. She puts two ones behind it.

"Take care, Ponyboy," she says, and I take it as a sign that I'm allowed to go. Maybe she can't _force_ me to see her, but there are other ways of being coersive. I wonder how many Mondays I can pretend to be sick without making suspicions when I walk to the cafeteria. Probably none.

xXx

I eat my lunch by myself. I have a friend named James I use to sit with, but he has avoided me all day. I can feel his eyes on me now and then, but when I occationally look up, he looks away. I think I know what the problem is, that he doesn't know what to say, but honestly, he doesn't have to say anything. I would be pleased with just a "hey", but I guess death sticks to you like a plague. Last year Carol's sister died, and everyone treatened her the same way, ignored her for days. I can see her now, sitting in a crowd, talking and laughing, and I know it will get better for me too. When everyone forgets, and they will soon enough. My parents accident will be the talk of the week, but next month, it will be old news. For them.

For me, it has only started.

* * *

_I know I already have an ongoing story up, but this idea came to me a couple of days ago and I just had to write it down immediately. But I hope I will be able to update both stories once a week anyway. I have the ideas, and I think I'll have the time too._

_I hope you'll like it. Love to hear what you think.  
_

___I don't own the Outsiders._


	2. The voices

**Darker**

**Chapter 2 - The voices**

Steve's car pulls up beside the curb, and I try to make myself little on the porch, hunch over my cigarette. Soda gets out, shouts something to Steve before he close the door. He watch him go, wavering, then he comes over, crosses our lawn and the short stair in a few long steps before he finally plops down next to me. I hope he won't notice how cold I am.

"Hey, Ponyboy!" He start putting his arm around me but then suddenly stops, frowning. "What's your schoolbag doin' here?" He leans forward instead, picks it up. "Pony?"

I look down. I really tried to prepare myself of going home to an empty house. I tried to prepare myself for Mom not standing in the kitchen, making dinner. I tried to prepare myself for Dad not coming home from work later. An hour ago, I stood in the doorway, listened to the silence, and failed completely. Soda must know, or my backpack had been in my room. I would never take it with me just to go out to smoke.

"I couldn't go inside," I mumble my confess. It's better he knows I've been sitting here since then, than think I came home late.

"It's locked?" Soda rise, touch the door. It swings open, and he turns to me. "Pone? What's the matter?" I don't answer, so he sits down again, this time in front of me.

"They're not there," I say in a small voice, devastated. I miss them.

So badly.

I put out the ember on the wooden board, thankful it's wet, then buries my face in my arms. I can feel Soda's arms around me, hear him talking to me, breathing next to my ear, but I don't register his words. I want this feeling of unbalance to go away. I want to turn back the time.

I don't want to feel this small and abandoned.

xXx

When Darry comes home, we sit in the couch. Soda somehow succeeded in coax me in, and then he never left my side. I don't want to tell Darry, but I never told Soda that, so he does anyway. I curl up.

"Pony?" Darry says while putting a hand on my shoulder. I brace myself for what will come. He probably will tell me I'm acting childish, that I promised it wouldn't be a problem to go home alone. But he doesn't.

"I know it ain't easy," he sighs. He sounds tired, like this is all his fault. It's not. "Maybe it was to early for school, but-"

"You said I had to go. You said..." I stop myself. It's hard to utter the words. I don't look up, but I can feel how Soda shifts beside me.

"Said what?"

"He said he should send me to a boy's home," I mutter from behind my arms before Darry has the time to reply. I know it's unfair, but I want the attention away from me.

"I didn't mean it like that," Darry defend himself, but he says it to Soda. "You know he needs to go to school someday. Nothin' gets better of sitting home, and I don't want the Social services on our backs. _They_ can put you in there, not me." I don't think he realize how much his words scares me. He can't protect me.

"A couple o' more days-" Soda starts.

"It's okay," I hurry to say, still hidden. "I can go." I have other reasons than fear too. Next semester means High school, the same school as the gang, but if I miss too much in school now, then maybe they want to keep me for another year. I won't let that happen. I need Soda. I need my friends. "I wanna go," I add.

"But who's gonna meet him tomorrow?" Soda says to Darry. "I got math," he makes a grimace, I can tell, "as last period, so-"

"No. No ditching."

"Darry, it's _math_. I'm failing anyway," Soda informs.

"No one has to meet me," I mumble, but I don't think they pay attention.

xXx

I am given a second chance. They still have to watch me go inside, but Darry agreed to let me walk home today too. But I know he only agreed to that because he doesn't have any other options. He doesn't want Soda to ditch, even if Soda suggested it, and he can't ask the others, even if we all know both Dally and Two-Bit probably would do it gladly. They do it for lesser reasons than that regular days. And Darry can't leave work since we need the money. He though about driving me home on his lunch break, but that's not at the same time, and besides, I don't know what the fuss is about. It's not the _walk_ that's the matter, it's the _house_, and I just have to get used to it. No one can do anything to change that. And I doubt either of our friends would think it's funny to hang around in our house, just watching me doing my homework. I know it's hard for them too to be in there. My parents were there for all of us, and I know we all are in pain, in different ways, but still.

I can cope. I have to.

This day is like the last day, and the fingers on the clock creeps slowly while I'm ignored by my peers. I empty my thoughts of family and home, concentrates on the books and papers in front of me. I need to keep my grades up.

When the last bell ring, I stand up, but before I have the time to move, my teacher calls me. I groan inside. I had enough with Mrs. Ellis yesterday, but I know my manners. When I'm standing in front of her desk, Mrs. Thomas fortunately waits until the rest of the classroom is empty before she starts talking.

"I just want you to know," she says, "that if you have any problems with your work at all, talk to me and we'll figure something out." She leans her head. "Do you have anyone who can help you with your homework at home?"

"Yeah," I say. I guess that's not enough, so I continue. "My brother can help me."

"You live with your brother?" she ask, and I nod even if it's not her business. "How old is he?" She's new, she never had them in class. But I don't know why she wants to know, what she'll do with the information. It feels like she's just curious, but maybe she cares.

"Darry's twenty and Soda's sixteen," I say to her, wanting to go. I can hear myself how bad that sounds. I can see in her eyes what she thinks about that, three young boys living on their own, but she doesn't know Darry. And we were in custody court.

She tries to do small talk about school, but I just nod and hum on the right places. When she finally release me, I walk slowly. And I'm thankful for the now empty schoolyard. Yesterday it was hard to see all the kid's being picked up by cars, cause I knew who the drivers was. I can almost see our beat up plymouth running down the street, Mom behind the steering wheel, but it's just an imagination, I know. The car's in the junk yard, Mom is put six feet under.

And I really, really, _really_ don't want to think about that.

I walk home. And this time, I manage to step inside without too much trouble. But I hurry through the house and stay in my room until Soda comes home, because if I do, I can pretend the house is like it used to be.

xXx

_They argue. They almost never do, and the thumb in my mouth is not a comfort. Their legs are long where I stand next to them, looking up. They don't scream, but their whispers pierce the air. I'm confused. I don't know what they're saying, and I wish my brothers were here to explain. But Darry's in school, Soda in kindergarten. I'm still too young to go, Mom tells me every day when she leaves them.  
_

_But now they don't notice me._

_"I don't like it," Mom says. "What if-" and then she sees me, because I grab the hem of her skirt. "Baby," she says, "why don't you play with your blocks?"_

_I look down. They are there, but I don't want them. I want her._

_"There's no 'if's," Dad says, and Mom hush him. She puts her hand on his arm.  
_

_"Not in front of Ponyboy." They both look down. It feels like I shrink.  
_

_"He heard you yesterday, but- " Dad tells her, "-he's too little to understand. " Then he sits down at his heels anyway, his eyes levels with mine. "Go and play," he says. "Mom and Dad needs to talk." His eyes are brown like Soda's._

_I play.  
_

_I'm alone. I hear their voices but I can't find them. I walk _ _from room to room, and they're few - the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, four small bedrooms. Mine is like a closet. There are no hiding places, anywhere, I know, because my brothers always finds me first when we play hide-and-seek, but Mom and Dad is not here. Every room is empty._

_Except for their voices. I can hear them.  
_

_They argue, still, and words flows around in the air, everywhere I go. Then, now, past, you, prison, scared, dangerous, no. I hear my name. I hear Soda's and Darry's and Mom says: "For the last time, Darrel, he's not welcome here."_

_"Maybe he's changed," Dad says. "I'm sorry he made you cry."_

_"He didn't," Mom answers. "You did."_

_"I changed," Dad says.  
_

_I look and look and look but I can't find them. The police smiles sadly. "They're dead. That's why you can't find them." He takes my hand and starts lead me out from the house.  
_

_"He's not welcome," Mom's voice says in the room and I open my eyes._

xXx

I don't know why I wake up screaming, but I do. The door to my room barges open, and my brothers rush in. Soda grabs my arms, helping me to sit up, and I catch my breath, start coughing instead. My throat hurts. I feel a cool hand against my forhead, it's Darry, and he looks concerned.

"You all right?" Soda asks, finding my gaze with his, but I can't answer. I don't know. First, I shake my head, but then I feel ridiculous, it was just a dream, right, I shouldn't be so worked up about it, so I start nodding instead.

"Yeah," I manage to whisper.

"What happened?"

I swallow. "Um... nightmare."

Darry sits down on my bed, sighing. "God, you sure scared us with that scream," he says. "What was it about?"

"What?" I ask bewildered, struggling myself out from Soda's grip. He lets go of me, and I cradle myself with my arms. I notice I'm still shaking, but maybe it is because of the cold in my room. My cover lies on the floor, and Darry picks it up, drapes it over my shoulders.

"What did you dream about?" he clarifies his question for me. I close my eyes, seeing if I can remember it. I do. Everything. But I can't tell them. I don't want to talk about our parents. I don't even want to talk about the good times we had, not yet, it's all so new and hurting still, so I certainly don't want to tell my brothers I dreamt of a fight between them either.

So I lie. "Nothin'."

Soda raise his eyebrows, lips parted in disbelief. "Nothin'? You scream bloody murder over nothin'?"

"Yeah." I wipe my eyes, afraid it's tears, but it's not. I'm just sweaty. Soda opens his mouth to say something, but I get to it first. I know he just cares, but I still gets annoyed. "I can't remember, okay?" I snap.

He gives me an apologizing look, and then leans forward to ruffle my hair. I try to shrink away, its almost leads to a wrestling match in my bed, until Darry stops us with firm hands.

"Hey? Knock it off, you two. It's two o'clock in the mornin' and we need some sleep. Soda, back to bed. Pony, sure you're all right?"

I drag the cover from behind, smooth it out over my legs instead, look up. "I said I am."

"Good." Darry drags a hand over his face. "Back to sleep, then." He grabs Soda and leads him out from my room. I hear them talk when I take the water glass from my nightstand, gulping down its lukewarm contents.

It's hard to go back to sleep.

xXx

"Hey, Pony?" Soda says. He and Steve showed up thirty minutes ago, and even if we both know Darry wants us to do our homework right away, just like our parents forced us to, they fiddle with cards on the living room floor instead. I sit in the couch, my legs dragged up with a book leaning against them, trying to study. My room is too small for a desk. "Remember boogeyman?"

My eyes leaves the text. "Who?"

Soda turns his head, smiles. "When you were a kid? Boogeyman?"

I'm blank. "I've no idea of what you're talkin' about," I say to him, and that's the truth. I try to search in my memory, but I find nothing.

Steve flips a card at Soda. "Tell me," he demands. "Kid believed in boogeyman?"

Soda laughs, but it's gentle. "Yeah. Had all those nightmares too." He face me again. "You really don't remember?"

I shake my head. "I don't. Should I?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Just remember 'cause of tonight." He takes up the cards, but miss the spades of ten behind his back, shuffles. "You screamed bloody murder then too."

"Kid had a nightmare?" Steve says, and I scowl.

"You know I'm in the room?" He ignores me, of course. "Soda, you shouldn't tell him," I complain.

"What, about boogeyman? Honey, you were like... two years old. Ain't notin' to be ashamed of." He deals the cards, fast. "Steve believed in ghosts."

"Did not," Steve growls, glaring. Soda laughs so hard that he fall over.

I still wonder how he manage. But I know, for Soda, laughter is a protection. He can pretend, but he can't trick me. I can see the sadness in his eyes.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading/reviewing and adds, it makes me really happy!  
_

_I' hope you don't think Pony comes out too childish/wimpy or anything. I'm just thinking he's only 13½ years old in this and just lost his parents (in the book he's 14 and are more used to being an orphan) so he may act a little bit like that in this story.  
_


	3. The boogeyman

**Darker**

**Chapter 3 - The boogeyman**

_There's a bug in the grass._

_I think it's summer. The sun is warm and over me, the sky is blue and cloudless. Mom stands by the laundry line, clamping up clean shirts and pants in rows. I giggle when the bug crawls up on my hand. It's small and black and shiny. _

_Mom sings. I watch her pick up one of Soda's shirts from the basket and clamp it on the line over her head. The bug tickles me. I raise my hand, holds it just below my eyes to observe the little creep closer, wondering if you can eat it, but before I have the time to taste it, there's a voice._

_Mom stops singing. The sky is much darker now._

_I look up. A man stands on the other side of our fence. His arms lies upon it, crossed, and he's chewing on something. The laundry is gone, and Mom takes a step backwards, talks without moving her lips._

_"Oh my God."_

_He laughs. He looks at me. I've seen him before, in our house. In my room. In the park. I start to cry. I feel Mom's hands under my armpits, and then I sit on her hip, clinging to her. I trash around in her fathom, trying to reach the grass again, I don't want to be here, but she only holds me tighter._

_"What do you want?" It's not her normal voice._

_"Why, me?" he says. "Was in the neighbourhood. Jus' wanted to say hello." His eyes turns to me again. "Nice to see you again, boy."_

_I'm scared. I fling my arms around Mom and hides my face under the crook of her neck, and she puts a hand against my hair, gently stroking it._

_"You don't have to be afraid of me," the man says, but he doesn't says it to me. He says it to Mom. She gives a nervous laugh. I look up, and now he stands next to us, despite that he a second ago was behind the high fence._

_Mom lies. "Darrel will be home soon." Dad just went to work, and when he does, he never gets home until evening. And then she says, a bit higher, "I'm not afraid of you."_

_I sit in the grass. The bug creeps on the man's hand, and he laughs, and eats it. Mom is gone. I watch him silently, every move he make. He stares at me. And then he is gone too, and I lie in my bed. The older me stands beside it, leans over the little me, whispers: _

_"It's Bug-man, Ponyboy."_

xXx

Someone is shaking me. I stop screaming, flies up and almost knocks Soda's head with mine. He looks pale in the suddenly light room - Darry stands with his hand on the switch.

"Geez, Pone," Soda says, stroking my hair away from my eyes, "second night in a row, huh?"

"Damnit," is my quiet respond. I swallow hard, take a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. It doesn't work. I can still hear the man's voice, see his face before me.

"You're shakin'," Soda observes. "Remember this time?"

I do. Everything. I remember every little detail, so why don't I just tell them? I don't know. It's hard to put words on what's so scary about it, and the one yesterday. It's just dreams, random pictures in my head. When I think them over, they seem ridiculous. Nothing to wake up screaming about. No one else would, I know.

So I shake my head, and Soda glances up towards Darry, who now stands next to us beside my bed. He eyes me closely.

"Maybe," he starts. "Maybe this has something to do with..." We can all hear the words he doesn't utter. The_ accident. _Even he has trouble saying it out loud._  
_

"No," I say. Too quickly. One breath in, then, "I don't think so."

"Why?" Soda asks me. "If ya don't remember it..?"

I shrug, trying to look at ease. "I just don't think so." Then I lie down again, turn myself to face the wall. I can feel my brothers watch me, and suddenly I want them to go. I tell them that they can. When they hesitate, I look up.

"It's the middle of the night," I say. "I'm gonna go back to sleep anyway."

Darry scratch himself in the back of his neck. "If you're sure?" I know he's tired. He works hard, he needs his sleep. I nod.

"I don't know," he says, watching Soda.

"Darry, it's okay, promise."

"Maybe you can stay for a while?" He says it to Soda, and of course, Soda tells him yes. Darry leaves the room, glances back one last time in the doorway. Soda sits in the foot end of my bed and I shoot him a questioned look. He gives me a weak smile.

"I'm just worried," he says.

"It was just a dream," I tell him. "You can go." His expression doesn't change. "Soda, stop it! It's no big deal."

"All right, all right!" He rise. Then points at me with his index finger. "Promise you'll tell me if you need me. I told you I can stay, you know."

"I know, but you don't have to." I drag in my cover until it reaches my chin. "See you tomorrow."

"Call for me if you need me," he tells me again.

"Soda, get out." But I smile. Then he finally leaves, turns off the lamp again as he steps out of my room. It's so dark, and when I close my eyes, I can see the man's face, and suddenly I wish Soda had stayed. But I don't call him back.

xXx

I can't stop thinking about it. I can't even pay attention in school, but the teachers let me sit in my own world, doesn't ask me any questions and seems not to care when I in the end of the day has getting nothing done.

I'm still thinking when I head for home, about that man in the dream. Something about him gives me the shivers, and when I clench my sweaty palms, I realize that I'm scared of him. For _real_. I don't know why, though. _Bug-man_. What does it mean? Who is he? Is he even real?

And suddenly I remember something. It's not clear, but it's there. It's the word, and I said it to someone, I don't know who, but I have a memory of me crying, saying that word and then - I frown trying to remember- someone hugs me and says something soothing.

_"There's no boogeyman, Ponyboy. It was just a dream, honey."_

It's Mom's voice. She lifted me up from bed after my nightmare, and the man must've been in it.

I stop on the street, because then it hits me. Bug-man is boogeyman! God, I almost start laughing. Of course, he's just an imagination from my childhood, not real at all. Probably someone my brothers or one of their friends scared me with, and I pictured him up. He became the monster in my closet, the boogeyman Soda mentioned. I think I do remember now. Him. Bug-man.

I know I was a late talker, Mom once told me that I hardly spoke until I was three. She knew I could do it, words slipped out of me now and then, so she was never real worried, I just prefered to stay quiet, she said. I guess I just couldn't say the word boogeyman, and it came out as bug-man instead. That explains everything. I feel relieved, the nightmares are just memories of my nightly fears back then. And Darry was probably right, I have gotten them back because of what happened with Mom and Dad. Because I feel so lost now. Because I'm kind of scared even without the dreams.

I start walking again.

xXx

Johnny comes over in the evening. There's a soft knock on the door, and that startles me a bit since no one in the gang never does, they just open up and steps inside. The fear grip my heart when I reach for the door, remembering the last time someone knocked. So I can't help but grin when I see Johnny on the other side, not the police with some other bad news. I wave him inside, and he follows me into the living room. He looks around like he's nervous, his hands stuffed deep down in his jean pockets. I ask him how he's doing, and he says fine.

"You?"

I shrug. "Good, I guess." Then, "Wanna smoke?"

"Sure."

His nervousness loosens up when we stand on the porch. We lit up, and I stand with my stick hanging between my lips, rubbing my bare arms. It's freezing out, at the end of January, and outside the porch roof, the snow falls heavy. I wonder if school will be closed tomorrow, if this weather continues, it's a possibility.

"It's different," Johnny says, and I don't ask what he means. I know. So I nod.

"It's so wrong," Johnny continues. "It shouldn't happen to good people."

I agree with him, but I wish he would stop talking. I don't say it though, it feels like he needs it. I just wish I wasn't the one who listened. But I also know, I'm the only one that can make him speak this much. I guess it depends on that I'm the only friend he got that's younger than himself, and almost as quiet as he.

"It's so many bad people out there," he says, staring at the snow, and I wonder if he thinks of his parents. I guess he does. He has a yellow bruise against his jaw line. "God," he continues, "your parents-"

"Please, Johnny, don't!" I manage to say, but my voice is weak. Almost broken, and he blushes.

"Sorry. I'm so stupid." He looks down at his shoes, and I notice they're not boots, just tennis shoes. And he must be freezing in his thin jacket. Sure, I'm not that well dressed right now either, but I have my coat inside. I have my warm home and my brothers. Maybe I don't have my parents anymore, but the memory of them is better than the living ones in Johnny's house.

"You're not," I tell him, but he still looks ashamed. "Johnny, you're not," I repeat. "I just don't... I just don't wanna talk about them. Not yet." I bite my lip. He nods.

We stand quiet, smoking up our sticks.

"Come on," I say. "I feel like a popsicle." I open up our front door to let us in again at the same time Darry pulls up the truck on the driveway. He can hardly park because of the drifts.

"Where's Soda?" he asks me when he too has come inside. I shrug.

"He and Steve had somethin' to do."

"He left you alone?" He turns his head, looks out through the window. "In this weather?"

"I ain't alone, Johnny's here." I leave out I was alone for an hour before he came by. I feel offended that he treats me like a little kid. Sure, I had kind of a breakdown yesterday, but our parents was recently killed. What does he expect? I won't cry all the time. "It wasn't snowing when he left," I add, feeling a bit worried too.

I turn on or TV and go sit myself down next to Johnny in the couch, now and then staring at the door. I wish Soda was home.

"What do you want for dinner?" Darry shouts from the kitchen.

"Don't care." I turn to Johnny. "Wanna eat?"

"Yeah, sure." He avoids looking at me, and I shout back his answer to Darry.

"Did I hear somethin' about food?" Two-Bit suddenly stands in the doorway, brushing of snow from his shoulders. "What're we gonna get?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just takes a place in the couch, forcing me and Johnny to move.

xXx

Soda comes home late while I brushing my teeth. It has stopped snowing by now, and Two-Bit just walked Johnny home. Darry told them they could sleep over, but both said no. Secretly, I'm glad for that. I don't think I will have another nightmare, but you can never know, and I don't want them to hear me scream. It's bad enough Steve knows about one.

I can hear Darry scold Soda, asking him where he has been, if he didn't realized we was worried. Then he lowers his voice, and I assume that he talks about me. I frown at myself in the mirror. Minutes later, Soda shows up in the doorway to the bathroom. I spit in the sink.

"Sorry," Soda says. "I thought of comin' home earlier, but-"

"It's okay," I interrupt him. "You don't have to baby-sit me." I hold my toothbrush under the running water, then puts it back in the glass. Soda sits down on the toilet lid, looking like he wants to say something. "What?"

"You can't tell Darry," he says to me.

"Okay?"

"So Steve and I went down to the DX today, and he got this part-time job." I wait when he hesitates. "And the boss mentioned that a guy will quit in a couple of months. But that's a full-time, and Steve has school."

"You've got school too," I say to him, leaning against the wall. I have a feeling I don't gonna like this.

"Yeah." Soda looks away and I feel my stomach sink. No, no, no... he can't drop out! Not now. It's only seven months left until we both will go in the same school. I've always looking forward to that. I know we never will share classes, but we could at least share lunch period, and see each others in the hallway. Besides, High school is kind of scary, and I will be a year younger than everyone else. I need him there!

"It's just a thought," Soda says, briefly meeting my eyes. "I probably won't do it."

But I know Soda. I know that he hates school. I know that he fails almost all his classes. I know he never will put an effort in his education. He's not like Darry and I, but I know he's got brains too. Just differently.

"I need to go to bed," I say to him, looking down.

xXx

I stand in the middle of my small room. I have a bed, a small bedside table, a bookcase and a closet, and that's all. I don't even have a carpet. But the room has been mine since the day I was born and I can't remember a time when I felt insecure of being in here.

I sit down on my bed, but can't resist the feeling to look underneath it. There's no boogeyman.

* * *

_If you have the time, I would love it if you wanted to review this. Criticism is very welcome, I can't improve without your words! Thank you!_


	4. The friend

**Darker**

**Chapter 4 - The friend**

_It's a knock on the door._

_I know it's the first time I see him, when he steps inside, looking around. The very first time but I know who he is. The first time, but I have met him before.  
_

_Mom wipes her hands on her apron, then lets him take her hand, glancing at Dad. Dad smiles. He gestures at us, Darry, Soda, me, tells our names.  
_

_The Bug-man smiles too, but this time, his name is Harry. He shakes my brothers hands, then leans down in front of me. I push my wooden car over the floor, back and forth, back and forth, meeting his eyes. I know them. I see him through my older eyes. The little me is not scared, not then, not yet, but I can feel the tension. It's everywhere. I wonder why Dad lets him in, but he doesn't know. Nobody knows. Nobody feels. Not even me. I want to tell them, but I can't remember what. I can't remember why.  
_

_Harry smiles and pats my head._

_I make noises, pretending it's my car, push it, but the older me wants to scream, and it's a tightness in my chest, a feeling of no air. I will warn me but I can't get a word out. But I hear them. I wonder why no one else does.  
_

_He tricks you he tricks you he tricks you he tricks you he tricks you-_

xXx

I wake up, and it's dark. I rub my eyes and turn on the small lamp on my nightstand, looking at the clock. It's close to midnight. At least it wasn't me screaming that woke me up this time, but I'm scared anyway, I can feel my heart throb fast. If bug-man is boogeyman, the non-existing monster when I was little, how can he be a man named Harry? Maybe my brain just make things up, but still, this dream felt so real. At least part of it. I don't know what to believe anymore. Nothing makes sense.

I blink in the light, trying to get my eyes used to it. If this dream really was a memory, it seems like my parents knew him, the man. Like he was friends with them, or at least, my Dad. So why does he scare the wits out of me, both in my dreams and when I'm awake? I place my palm against my chest, trying to force the organ to slow down. I think of calling for Soda, but in the end, I don't. Instead, I lie down again, trying to go back to sleep. Hopefully I won't dream anymore. I don't know if I even want answers to my questions.

I let the light remain this time.

xXx

_We're out in the back yard. Dad stands at the barbeque, flipping burgers and hot dogs, Mom sits in a chair, sipping coffee. Dad's friend is funny. He plays with us. Soda throws himself down in the grass, holds his stomach and laughs. No one can laugh like Soda. Darry holds up his football, wanting the man to catch it. He frowns a bit, wants a bit of the attention too.  
_

_Harry holds the ball in his hands. He throws it back to my brother. Then he picks me up, throws me up in the air and catch me. It's breathtaking, I giggle. He's funny. He pretends to drop me but he doesn't. I feel safe.  
_

_"I'm next! I'm next!" Soda yells, jumping up and down, and Harry lets go of me and I fall- _

xXx

I feel nauseous and gets to the toilet just in time. I try to make it quiet, but the lamp flicks on in the hallway just a few minutes later. The bathroom door stands ajar, slipping in faint light.

"Ponyboy?"

I dry heave. "I'm... I'm okay," I manage to say. The tiles are cold under my palms. My arms shakes of holding my weight up.

Darry sits down on a knee next to me, pushes away my hair. "You're obviously not," he says dryly. I can't answer him when another wave of nauseous drives through my body.

When I'm done, Darry helps me stand up against the sink, and I wash myself, drink some water, rinse my mouth. The picture of me in the mirror is pale, red-eyed, and I look down instead. I'm still shaking. It seems like I do every day. Every time I wake up.

"Come on, Pony." My brother takes my arm, gentle leads me back to bed, and even if I'm too old for it, he snugs me in. Like Mom used to do. "No school tomorrow," he tells me, and I nod weakly.

"Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"Um... did Mom and Dad had a friend named Harry?" It's strange, but I feel nothing when I spell it out. I should, shouldn't I? His appearence scares me, but his name means nothing.

Darry seems a bit surprised by the question, but for my sake, he thinks it over. "I don't know," he finally says. "Why do you ask?"

I try to shrug where I lie on my back. "Dunno."

Darry raise his eyebrows. "You don't know?"

"I heard the name yesterday and I just remembered somethin',"I decide to say. "He was here once and played with us I think." The first time. Maybe the second and the third and the fourth too. For some reason, I just know he was here, a lots of times. He is real. He must be. He has been in here too, I just know. The thoughts makes it almost hard to breathe.

Darry stands still for a moment, then shakes his head. "Don't remember," he says. He leaves and comes back a minute later, puts a bowl on the floor, just in case. It was what Mom always did when we got the stomach flu. I swallow down tears.

"You think you can go back to sleep?" Darry asks me.

I nod. "Don't... don't turn off the lamp," I say, and he looks worried. "If I need to get up again," I explain, I lie, and then the worry disappears from his face.

"Sure."

xXx

_The sun has start to set. Dad and Harry open up bottle after bottle of beer, and gulp it. Mom's not here, maybe she's inside. Darry and Soda wrestles in the grass, but Soda, being much smaller, doesn't stand a chance, and then there's blood. It pours from his nose, crimson drops that gleams. Darry jumps up._

_"I didn't do nothin!" he says, wide-eyed over Soda's yells. Dad suddenly stands next to them._

_And then the three of them are not here anymore. I can hear them, Darry babbling, Soda crying, but they're not here. Our house is gone. Our back yard is empty._

_I'm left. Harry too. It's only us, in a small, small world. He eyes me above the bottle when he takes a sip, and then he says,_

_"You're not much of a talker, huh?" It seems like things suddenly has changed. His voice is different. We fought for his attention when he was nice, but now he suddenly seems cold. _

_I watch him silently as he too rise up, stumbles a little when he walks to sit beside me. _

_"You can keep a secret?" he says. Then, "Of course you can." He laughs for himself. He puts his mouth next to my ear. His beard tickles me, I can smell his breath. It chokes me. I can feel myself watching me, hear my voice that echoes in the air: "Run and hide, Ponyboy!" But I can't move._

_"I really hate your pa," Harry whispers. "I'll crush him like a bug."_

_And then he laughs again._

xXx

I sit in our couch, a blanket around my shoulders. The day has just begun, and I hear my brothers talk in the kitchen. About me.

"It's the third time, Darry," Soda says. "What are we gonna do about it?"

I hear cabinets opens and close. A pouring sound. "What can we do? It's nightmares."

I shudder. The last dream for the night made me wake up screaming again, and since then, I have been awake. My brothers both asked me if I was _sure_ I didn't knew what it was about, but I stubbornly told them no. They would just tell me the dreams aren't true. But I have a feeling that they are.

I just wonder how I can remember, when I must have been only two or maybe three years old, when Darry can't. If tonight's nightmares are real, Darry had to been eight or nine at the time, and he doesn't remember a guy named Harry.

At least I do know now how the name bug-man appeared. _I'll crush him like a bug_. It must have affected me so much that the memory have stuck to me all these years, just to show up now when I'm stressed over my parents deaths. I can't see any other explanation.

"Pone?"

"Huh?"

"How are ya feelin'?" Soda sits down on the coffee table, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand. He gives it to me. "Still nauseous?"

"No." I take a sip. It's too much sugar in it, but I don't complain.

"I'll stay home with you," he says, throwing a glance backwards. Darry stands in the doorway to the kitchen, sighing.

"Well, I need to go," he says. "Have dinner ready at seven, Soda. Pone, take it easy today, all right?"

We promise him, and he's out. I notice the clock, raises my eyebrows at Soda. He gets it.

"Oh, he needs to shovel away the snow first. Can't get the truck out otherwise."

I hold the cup in both hands, let the surface warm my hands. Then, "He actually let you stay home?"

Soda watch me with a playful scowl. "Hey, he's not _that_ stern, Ponyboy." He smiles. "Besides, I didn't really gave him an option or anythin'."

xXx

Soda isn't good at staying home. It's only been a couple of hours, and he almost climbs the walls by now. He pace our small house, throws himself down at random places just to jump up again. We listened to the radio a bit before, and watched a show on TV, but now everything is silent, and I can't read my book because of him. It's my fault that he's bored.

"You can do somethin' if you like," I tell him.

"Like what?" He sits in the recliner now, playing with a lighter. I shrug.

"Dunno. Just... I feel better."

"We could go out and have a snowball war, but Darry would kill m-" he stops, biting his lip. I close my eyes, wonder why he stopped. It really doesn't matter, because I'm still thinking of them all the time. Everything reminds me, abrupted words, things people doesn't say and how they act, it all hurts. Why can't everything just be normal?

"Pone, I'm sorry." Soda suddenly sits next to me. I quickly wipe away the tear that threatens to fall.

"It's okay," I say, but Soda shakes his head.

"It's not."

I suddenly glare at him. "If you think you saying _kill me_ matters _at all_, you're stupid, Sodapop!"

He looks taken aback of my outburst. His lips partly separates, but he doesn't say anything, just looks at me, and then he suddenly hugs me. He's crying, and I am too.

xXx

"You wanna put this in?" I hold up a bag of spice I found in the cabinet, and he smiles.

"Yeah, that'll be great!" He snaps it from my hand.

"What's that?" I point at the other spices on the counter.

"Chili pepper and, um..." he turns it over so he can read the label, "basil."

"You gonna put both in there?"

He gies me a funny look. "Sure. Why not?"

"What are you making?"

"I don't know." Soda turns to the stove again, staring at the pans. "But I bet it'll be good."

I have my doubts, but I don't say anything. Soda was the one who made us dinner the day after the accident, and then he continued, day after day, to make sure we had breakfast and lunch and dinner, and I think he loves it. He's not good at it, but the way his eyes sparkles, no one will ever tell him. At least the food are never boring anymore, even if we're just lucky it has been edible all the time.

I set the table and Darry comes home. He asks how I'm doing, I say I'm good.

"Not nauseous anymore?"

"No."

He puts down bags with groceries on the counter and starts to put them away, and I can't hardly watch him. If it wasn't for what happened, he had saved all his money to start college after summer. He had already half a year's savings, but I know almost all that money went to our parents funerals, their headstones, the clothes we wore.

I'm taken away from my thoughts when Darry adresses me.

"Are you sure it was Harry, Ponyboy? 'Cause I remember a Henry." He puts the milk in the fridge.

"What?" That was so unexpected. I drop the cutlery I'm holding, and they clinks against each other as they hit the table.

Soda throws me a quick glance at the sound, then looks at Darry. "I remember him!" he grins. "He was funny!"

Henry! Not Harry. I almost feel dizzy. "You do?" My voice is too small, and both my brothers watch me with concern. I stretch up, pick up the forks and knives, pretend I'm cool. "You do?" I repeat, higher.

"Yeah, wasn't he like...um, Dad's friend?" Soda's voice trembles a bit at the word _dad_, I guess because of my reaction from earlier, but he turns to Darry with his question.

"Childhood friends. I guess they got separated during growing up, but then he visited for a time." Darry frowns. "I don't know why he stopped coming, though. Dad talked about him sometimes."

"Maybe he moved," Soda says. He takes up a spoon from the drawer, tastes the stew, nods for himself. "Why do we talk about him?" He finds the pot-holders, puts our dinner at the table.

"I just remembered him," I shrug, trying to look casual, wondering why my memories of him apparently aren't the same as my brothers. But of course, I may be wrong. I just have a feeling I don't.

* * *

_Thank you so, so much for all the reviews! Wow. I always love to hear what you think, and I take every word to my heart.**  
**_

_And I'm so sorry for every little grammatical error that slips through. I honestly doesn't have any excuses for them except that I'm not a native English speaker, so this is the best I can do. I read through my chapters a LOT of times, checks them in google translate (never trust that one, though!) and then have my beta Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose to check them for me, so just so you know, I really do my best to catch them. I'm a grammar snob in my own language, so I understand it can be disturbing when you read.  
And I really, really appreciate if you point them out if you find them too glaring. I use this site not only because I love to write, but also to learn. I'm NOT offended if you tell me about grammatical/spelling errors, just thankful! :)  
_

_Overkalix: Tack så mycket! :)  
_


	5. The game

**Darker**

**Chapter 5 - The game  
**

It's eight P.M and I'm tired. I haven't been getting much sleep the last nights, but I really don't want to go to bed. I guess Soda notice me slouching in the couch, trying to suppress my yawns, because he leans down, takes my hand and tries to drag me up on my feet.

"Come on, Pone. Go to bed," he suggest when I struggle against him.

"It's Friday," I complain, used to be allowed to stay up until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays.

"So? You can't even keep your eyes open."

"I need a smoke first."

Soda grins, lets go of me just to ruffle my hair. "Okay."

He digs out our coats from the hall closet, hands me mine and follows me out onto the porch. It's really cold. Despite that, I try to make my cigarette remain as long as possible, and when Soda's about to go inside again, I take up another stick. He eyes me.

"Pone, another?"

I nod. I don't tell him it's because I don't want to sleep. Not alone. Not in the dark. I'm so sick of the nightmares. Sick of not knowing what is dream and what is real. How can I tell? Does it even matter? Even if it's true, even if Henry told me things like that when I was little, Dad is dead now, and they weren't in contact with each other for years anyway. Darry hasn't seen him since he was ten or something like that, he told me at dinner, the last time on some football game Dad and Henry had taken him to. Then my brothers dropped the subject, started to talk about something else, and I shut my mouth.

It's not important anyway. If the dreams are true, if they really are memories, it's in the past, and I can do nothing about it now. So all I have to care about is how to make them stop. Not go to sleep might be an answer.

Something stings my fingers and I twitch them, dropping the cigarette.

"Damn." I blow on the place the ember burned me, while Soda's laughing, leaning against the house wall.

"Golly, Pone, you're so tired you can't even smoke."

I scowl at him, sticking out my tongue, making him laugh even more, but I don't correct him. If he wants to believe that's why I'm dazed, I'll let him.

xXx

When I crawl to bed ten minutes later, an order from Darry, I hear how Steve and Two-Bit shows up, asking Soda to tag along someplace. I feel betrayed when he says yes, wanting him to stay home, with _me_, but of course, he's sixteen, and it's Friday night. We can't stop living just because our parents died, and especially Soda has too much energy to handle doing nothing for a day. I know he needs this. I hear them talk and laugh even after the door has slammed shut, then the sudden roar from an engine, telling me it's Two-Bit behind the wheel. I know Steve sometimes gets crazy about how Two-Bit treats his car.

Darry comes to say good night from the doorway, and I feel bad for him. Maybe he had wanted to go out today too, but he can't, and only because of me.

"You feel all right now?" he asks me, and when he looks at me that way, he reminds me so much about Dad I almost forget what's happened. I swallow, trying to force the pain away. I can't stand it.

"Yeah."

No, I _don't_. I don't want to be in here, alone. But I know it's not what he asks me, he asks about the nausea, so what I tell him is the truth. "Um, I'm gonna read for a while," I say, picking one of the books laying on my nightstand, holding it up to show him.

"Sure." He flicks the switch, says good night, closes the door, and I take a deep breath, dropping the book again. I'm too tired to read.

xXx

_He's here. _

_He steps into our house like he's family, and Dad greets him like that, and Mom too. I feel my eyes widen- somehow I thought they all know about him, but they don't. He's a friend. Dad puts his arm around his shoulders, and Henry seems to not hate him at all. But I know what he said. His words echoes in my mind when I see him.  
_

_I hate your pa, I'll crush him, I'll crush him like-  
_

_I hide behind Soda's back, close my eyes. If I can't see him, he maybe goes away. They laughs. They calls me shy, that's why I'm hiding. Henry smiles and everyone smiles, but I, I don't. I see him crush my dad like a bug. I love Dad, I don't want it to happen. The man is scary. I know he is._

_"No," I say under my breath and my brother bounce around, turns to face me._

_"What did ya say, Ponyboy?"  
_

_I stare up at my brother's happy face, his messy hair, his smile. "No," I whisper. "He's mean. Bug man."  
_

_"Boogeyman?" He seems not to hear me, but lights up even more, when getting an idea. "Let's play boogeyman!"_

_"He can talk?" Henry says, too close, I cringe, he eyes me warily, and Mom says, _

_"Of course he can. He just prefers not to."_

_I know how to talk. I know words. They just seems to fit better in my head than in my mouth. I use them when I need them, but most of the time, I don't. Everyone is watching me. I blink and they goes away._

_Henry is chosen to be boogeyman and he hunts us, wants to find us, and my brother screams in excitement and laughs. He takes my hand._

_"Pony, Pony, Pony, Pony!"_

_I don't wanna play. I don't know the game Soda just made up. We run. Our house is dark. It's bigger than before, it has stairs and many, many rooms. I know we're lost, I don't know where we are. I don't recognize it. But Soda has a grip on my hand, and I can't get away. Can't get away from the words and the feeling and the scary, scary man that hunts us._

_I'm under my bed. Soda's there too, lying close next to me, warm. "We're hiding from boogeyman," he says, but he always talks too loud. "If he finds us, we'll lose." He giggles. I breathe hard, hoping he'll never, _never_ find us. But then Henry is there, and he drags us out by our feet and he laughs and Soda laughs and Mom and Dad and Darry too, but I -_

xXx

-scream.

xXx

I feel arms wraps around me, and I know it's him. I can't stop screaming. I can't get away. He's so much stronger, even when I struggle, kick, trying to hit, but my arms are captured, and then the voice reach me. It's not him.

"_Ponyboy_, calm down!"

It's Soda. And this time, I don't even try not to cry.

xXx

"I said I don't_ remember_!"

"Ponyboy, we're just wonderin' why." Soda sounds pleading, holding one of my hands. I refuse to look at him, feeling ashamed because of my lie, because of my tears.

"We can't continue like this," Darry says. "None of us gets much sleep."

"It ain't his fault," Soda stands up for me, while I drag my hand out from his grip to fold my arms, leaning back against the wall.

"I know that," Darry says. He drags his hands through his hair, takes a deep breath, then repeats, "I know that," but softer this time.

"Then don't blame him," Soda scowls. "He can't help it."

"I don't blame him, Soda. I'm just sayin-"

I tune my brothers out. I just calmed myself down enough to stop crying, but I know it's been half an hour since I woke up, woke them up as well.

It was just a game. I can't tell them that I woke up screaming because of a stupid _game_. And it's all Soda's fault too. He was the one scaring me about Henry being boogeyman. I guess that's why I'm scared of him, why my mind continues mixing things up. I just wish it could stop. I have enough to deal with during the days.

"What do ya say, Pone?" Soda's voice reach me, and I look up.

"Say 'bout what?"

"You can sleep in my room for the rest of the night if you wanna."

"Okay." I know I'm too quick to respond. I grab my pillow and follow Soda, but in his room, I hesitate. Soda sneaks down under his blanket, makes place for me beside him.

"You comin'?"

"Yeah." I cross the floor slowly, feeling like a baby when I crawl down in my brother's bed. But honestly, I don't really care. I just want to feel safe, and I do when Soda throws his arm around me.

xXx

I walk with Johnny and Dally. I know my oldest brother isn't too fond of me hanging out with Dallas Winston, but he's a friend and he can't really forbid me. Besides, when Johnny is there, he's more okay with it. He knows Dally looks out for Johnny, and then in the same time, me too. He won't get in too much trouble when we're around. But my brother forced me to promise I would run if something happens, if Dally do anything to extend his police record while I am with him. I told him I would, even if I know Dallas's not stupid. He's aware of our situation with the state, he would never jeopardy Darry's custody.

Johnny's limp is almost unnoticed, but it's there, so we end up on a bench under a bus-sign. Johnny and I sit down on the cold surface while Dally goes to grab some smokes in a nearby shop. I know that he didn't paid for them, but I take one anyway when he toss them to me. It only costs like fifty cents a pack, but I smoke almost two packs a day, and I always have to ask my brothers to buy them for me since I don't have that money. And I know how tight it is with cash. It has always been, but so much worse now without our parents. So if Dally or Two-Bit wants to give me some stolen goods, I won't say no. Even if I feel kind of bad for taking it.

I guess I'm the only one that feels that way, lifting is usually commonplace for greasers.

"So, what's next?" Dally says, and I look at Johnny who shrugs. Dally smirks at us, shaking his head. Then he turns to Johnny. "Let's drop Pony off at his house and head for Buck's, what do ya say?"

"I can come," I say hastily, glaring at Dally when he only laughs at me. Johnny throws me a apologizing look.

"I don't know," he says to Dally, trying not to show how much he freezes. I suddenly feel bad for him. He apparently can't go home right now, and I can't be the one stopping him from going someplace warmer than this. Sure, he could come home with me, but I know he still feels uncomfortable to be in there since the accident. Sometimes I think he takes my parents deaths as hard as me and my brothers.

"Whatever," I say to them, turning around and start heading for home. I can hear them following me.

My house is empty when we reach it. I try not to show how worried I am when we look through the rooms. But I guess Darry's at his second job, the one he sometimes has on Saturday evenings, and Soda's probably with Steve. Maybe I could tag along to Buck's without them even knowing, but if somethings goes wrong... I can't risk that. And with Dally's reaction earlier, it's obvious he wouldn't allow me anyway.

"Sure it's okay?" Johnny says when they're about to leave. I tell him it is.

xXx

_Mom is smiling. Dad too. I wonder why they're so nicely dressed. I have only seen my Dad in a suit a couple of times before, and Mom's dress looks new._

_"You forgot, Ponyboy?" Mom laughs, picking up her handbag. "We're goin' out for dinner."_

_I had forgot. Now I remember they told us a week ago, made Soda and Darry promise to be home with me, even if it's Saturday. They usually has someplace to be this day, parties to go to, drag races to watch or compete in, football practice sessions with friends, but now it's January, and snowing, and their sacrifice aren't that big, I think. At least, my brothers seems happy. Like Mom and Dad.  
_

_They're about to go when I tell them not to. Don't go. Don't go. You'll _die.

_So they don't. They stay home, with me, with my brothers. Mom smiles._

_"I would never leave you, Ponyboy."_

xXx

"Mom?" Startled I sit up in the couch, making the book which laid on my stomach fall to the floor with a thump, looking around. "Mom? Dad?"

No one answers.

And then it hits me, it was just a dream. I never told them not to go. We didn't knew. We almost didn't even say goodbye when they left, occupied with a game of cards on the floor, just waved at them, laughing, not even paid _attention_ and it was the last time we saw them.

The last time. But we didn't _knew_.

"Soda?" I call out instead, hoping he'll answer. He doesn't. "Dar?"

I look out through the window. It's dark, and it's snowing again. I try to ignore the 'something has happened'-feeling I get when I rise to my feet, walking to the front door to peek out. The truck's not home. Where are they?

xXx

"Where were you?" I have paced the living room for twenty minutes, chewing at my already too short nails, when they finally steps inside, dripping melting snow on the carpet while they unbutton their coats.

"I was at work, you know that," Darry says, putting his coat on a hanger, then takes Soda's from his grip, before he does like usual, just drops it where he stands. "I though you were with Johnny and Dally?"

I ignore his question. "You could at least call if you're gettin' late," I pout, trying not to show how relieved I am.

"Actually, I'm early," Darry says, holding up his arm so I can look at the watch on his wrist. He's right. Soda walks by me, patting my back.

"You can come with me and Steve next time," he promises.

* * *

_Thank you so much again for your reviews! You don't know how happy you make me! The next three (yeah, I try to be a bit ahead) chapters are almost finished, most of them just needs a bit of editing, so be nice and click on the blue button, and I promise to update faster. It's not a bribe..._

_well, ok, it is. :D  
_


	6. The teddy bear

**Darker**

**Chapter 6 - The teddy bear**

_I'm in my bed, supposed to be sleeping, but I'm not. I can't. I feel lonely. I hug my teddy bear closer, wishing Mom was here. But she and Darry and Soda are somewhere else. Only voices are here with me._

_I'm supposed to be sleeping, and the voices thinks I am. I hear them through the walls. They surround me, not hushed, not yelling, in normal tones.  
_

_"You know you owe me," Henry says. "Just this time. I could use your help."  
_

_And Dad says, "I'm sorry, but you know I can't."_

_"Why?" It's bitter. I try to sink deeper down into my pillow. Don't crush him.  
_

_Dad's voice is different when he answers. "You chose that path. Not I. I have a family, Henry. My wife and my boys. I won't risk anything." Then he says, "I'm sorry."_

_It's soothing. Like he use to talk to me. I wonder if he knows Henry hates him. I don't think he does. I haven't told. I promise I haven't told. I can't tell. Then something bad will happen. He told me. In the park he told me.  
_

_I hate the park.  
_

_"Okay." A deep sigh. "Okay. Sorry I asked. I shouldn't have."_

_I suck on the teddy bear's worned out ear. I always do, and Mom always tells me not to. Sometimes she puts my bear in the laundry machine, says it smells bad. But it tastes good. The fur brush against my nose, against my chin. I feel it between my teeth. The voices are gone. I'm alone.  
_

_I know there's a monster in my closet. I can hear it breathe, hear it tap with its fingers on the inside of the door. I want Dad. Then the closet door opens and Henry steps out. I stare. His blue eyes digs into mine, his finger points._

_"You wouldn't tell them, boy, would you? 'Cause I'm sure you don't wanna somethin' bad to happen, right? Ponyboy?"_

_I hate it when he says my name. I hate him. I'm scared of him. I don't want to see him, so I stare down at the floor instead. My teddybear lies on the carpet, its head ripped off._

xXx

"Golly, Pone, your dark circles gettin' bigger," Soda says with concern, gently pulling a lock of my hair. I jerk my head away from his hand.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

"Okay." He leans his head a bit to the left, says easy-going, "Darry wants to take ya to the doc."

"He does?" I stare. "Why? I ain't sick."

"You wake up screamin' every night," Darry says from behind my back, and I turn around. "I told you we can't continue like this." He crosses his arms in front of him, and the expression on his face tells me not to argue. Hell I won't.

"Yeah, well, I ain't goin'," I glare, leaving him for the bathroom. I make sure to bang the door as hard as I can before I turn the lock.

The boy in the mirror is me. I'm not different than I was two weeks ago. Same age, same height, same weight... I pull at the hem of my jeans, realize that I maybe lost some pounds. I guess it's because Soda's cooking most of the time. Same hair, same eyes. I'm still Ponyboy. Soda's still Soda and Darry's still Darry.

It doesn't seems right. Is it even possible to rip two people from the world, and it just keeps spinning, like nothing has happened at all? How we just keep breathing without them. I see my Dad in Darry and my Mom in Soda, and I guess them both in me. Does that mean they're still alive, in some way? Are they really, completely gone? Just like that?

I close my eyes, trying to see them before me, trying to hear their voices, and first, I do. I see my Dad, how he enters the kitchen when we have breakfast, his dirty old jeans and shirt, his smile when he grabs Mom around her waist, and the kiss she gives him on the cheek. I hear him tell us to have a good time in school, I hear Mom tell him to not fall off the roof, laughing, and then-

My eyes snap open when Henry's face comes into my vision. I _hate_ him. I really do. I don't know why he's trying to destroy me with his acts. But I won't let him do it. I won't.

xXx

I know it's here somewhere. I rummage my closet, but there's just my clothes. The top shelf holds a box, but I find it only filled with stories and drawings I've made in the past. I leave my room for the basement door, open it and reach up to the cord for the lamp, hanging from the roof. I drag, but nothing happens.

"Dar?" I call. "Do we have any new lightbulb's?"

My brother approach me from the living room. "I don't think so. Why?"

I gesture with my head down the small stair, to the dark beneath it. "The lamp's not workin' and I need somethin' for school."

"From the basement?"

"Yeah." I try to think out something fast. "Um, an old assignment. I just need to... look through it. "

He doesn't seems convinced, but he shrugs. "Okay. I'll put it on the list." I must look confused, because he laughs at me. "Bulb's," he says. "I'll buy a few next time I'll go shoppin'."

"When is that?" I don't want to wait, and I can't help but frown a bit.

"Tomorrow afternoon, maybe." He rise his eyebrows. "That's okay?"

"Actually, I kinda need it today." It's so easy to lie. Almost too easy. I feel ashamed, but I have to find out now.

He sighs. "Later today, then. I guess we could use some more milk too. I suppose I can ask Soda."

I smile at him. "Thanks, Dar."

xXx

Soda gets back and Darry changes the bulb since I'm too short to reach. When he's done, he pulls at the cord, and the basement lights up. He turns around to face me.

"Need any help?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll be in the living room, call me if you need me."

I say I will, but I know I won't need him. I don't want him to see what I'm actually looking for. He would just ask me questions, and I don't want to answer them. I place my hand at the rail and starts walking down the precipitous stairs. The basement is cold, and I shiver in my t-shirt, staring at the shelves and all the boxes that lingers here. It's many years of memories my parents has saved during the years. Mom has made my work easy, her handwrite's on every box, telling me what's in them. I see the one marked with '_Ponyboy's toys'_ underneath the one with '_Babyclothes'._ I lift it down to reach the one I want.

The teddy bear lies almost on top, black button-eyes staring up at me. I finger att it's right ear, where the fur is almost completely gone after my treatment, and I lift it up to examine it. It's smaller than I remember, more yellow than brown. I trace my finger around its neck, searching for the damage caused to it, the thread that sew the head back again, but I can't see it. I don't find any evidence at all of the head being ripped off. Maybe it never happened.

I hesitate for a while, before I put it back again to close the box, place it on the shelf and climb up the stairs. In the living room I find Darry in the armchair, watching the news.

"Didn't find it?" he asks me, eyeing my empty hands, and I blush. I forgot about my lie earlier.

"Uh, yeah, but I realized I don't need it," I say, looking away. "Where's Soda?"

"He went out somewhere again. Steve picked him up."

"Oh." I wonder if he forgot he promised to take me with him next time, but I push that thought away. He wouldn't. They'll probably do something he know I won't like to do. I sit down in the couch, staring at the TV. They report about some event at a restaurant downtown, close to the Soc's area.

"Dar? What restaurant did Mom and Dad go to?"

My brother doesn't answer first, just stares in front of him. I open my mouth to apologize for bringing them up, but before I have the time, he rise to shut down the telly. Then he goes to sit next to me, leaning forward with his elbows at his knees.

"I don't know," he says. "I never asked them. I guess I should have when they got home again. I stayed up to wait for them. I know I had asked them if they had a good evening. What they ate, maybe. If they wanted to go out some other time, that I would stay home with you again if that was the case." His voice is strained. "God," he says. "I still can't believe that they're-" and he stops, throws a quick glance my way and clears his throat. I can't help but thinking he talked to himself, that he somehow forgot I sit here, listening.

"Do you think they were scared?" I blurt out. Then I bite my lip, almost regretting my question. What if he says yes? But of course, he doesn't. Even if he had knew they were, I know he had lied to me to make me feel better.

"No, Pone. I don't think they ever noticed."

"But how could you not?" I ask him. "They must've noticed _somethin'_. I mean, they must've noticed that the car slipped. Do you think they thought about us when it did? You think they regretted even goin' out?"

"Pony, please," Darry says. "You can't change what happened."

It feels like he avoids my questions, but I don't push it. I don't want him to answer anyway.

xXx

It's after dinner when Soda turns to me with his suggestion. I'm happy no one else is nearby, not even Darry, because it's embarassing when I say okay. But of course Darry will know, and in time the gang too, but I guess I just have to stand it. If I can escape the nightmares, it will be worth it. So when it's time to go to bed, I go to Soda's room instead of mine, and I lay down next to him, and I'm not afraid of go to sleep.

xXx

_"I would never leave you," Mom says, but she's not pretty anymore. She's thin, so thin, her skeleton-like arms reaches out to embrace me in a hug. I take a step back, away from her. Her green eyes are black. The golden locks lank and lifeless._

_"I was so scared," she continues. "It took an eternity to die. Why didn't you help me, Ponyboy?" Her hands smooths out her dress, frail hands moving up and down over the dirty clothes, spotted with soil and blood. Her nails are painted red._

_"I... I didn't know."_

_"Why didn't you help me? You wanted us to die." __She sounds so, so sad. _  


_"No!"_

_"You wanted it, Ponyboy. You never warned us. You never told us not to go. You wanted it to happen."  
_

xXx

"Nooo!"

"Pony... Ponyboy..."

I whimper, turn around and find myself in my brother's arms. I sniff.

"Pone, it's okay!" Soda tries to sooth me.

"Did I scream?" I whisper to him. It's dark, I can't see anything, but I feel him.

"No, just talked in your sleep," he says, stroking my hair. "What was it about, Pone?"

"It was Mom... she, she told me I didn't-" I clamp my mouth. I don't want to talk about it. This dream was the worst yet, even if it doesn't leave me scared, just sad. I know my Mom would never think that way, but I do. It feels like I should have told them not to go. If I had, they had been alive.

"Hey," Soda whispers. "You can talk to me."

"Mmm." I wipe my eyes with my arm. "We've school tomorrow," I remind him. I know he realizes I just try to change the subject, but he lets me with a sigh.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep." He plants a kiss on my forhead, and I almost start crying again.

xXx

I have dread for lunch-hour the whole week, and now it's here. Since I have an appointment this time, I know she at least won't come and get me, making all my classmates stare again, but it doesn't feel any better to walk alone down the corridor to her office either. When I force myself to knock, I wish she won't be there, but of course she is, and she open up within a second.

"Ponyboy," she smiles, usher me in.

I sit awkwardly in the chair, finger at the lighter in my pocket. I hope I won't accidently put my jeans on fire in my try to focus on something else.

"How are you, Ponyboy?" Mrs. Ellis asks. "Everything's okay at home?"

I look at her hastily, then down. "Yeah. Why wouldn't it?" My thumb crawls over the little wheel.

"Well," she says. "That's nice to hear." I feel her eyes on me. "You look a little tired, Ponyboy."

I wonder why she repeats my name in every sentence. Maybe councelors always does that, to make you think they cares about you. But I know it's just her job.

"I'm not," I lie to her.

The half an hour I have to sit in her room, she mostly talks about school and my friends here, a little about my brothers but nothing about my parents. I think it's strange. I thought they are the reason I'm here, but maybe she wants to take it slow.

When I'm finally allowed to go, she tells me to have a nice day and that we'll see each other next week, and I mumble something in return, open up the door. I hope she thinks I'm acting normal. I really try to.

I guess I succeed in it someway, because in the cafeteria, James finally sits down opposit me with his tray.

"What do you think about the math homework we got today?" he asks me like he never avoided me last week. I chew on a piece of my potatoe, shrug.

"Doesn't seem too hard," I say, and he nods.

"So... uh," he starts, staring down at his food, picks in it with his fork. "You..."

A minute ticks by, and I realize he won't continue.

"We don't have to talk about it," I offer, and he seems so relieved I almost want to punch him. But I don't. The rest of our break we talk about school, and books, and sports, but nothing about parents.

* * *

_Fast update as promised! I won't bribe you anymore, but I hope you want to review this chapter anyway. And I hope I will be able to update chapter 7 in the beginning of next week.  
_

_Thank you for reading! _


	7. The innocent

**Darker**

**Chapter 7 - The innocent**

_My arms are wrapped around her legs, my cheek pressed against her knee. She can't go. They can't. I know I have to stop them.  
_

_Mom leans down, tries to uncurl me, but I only grip around her tighter, squeeze my eyes. I want her to stay. I don't know why they has to go. Why they want to leave me._

_Someone comes from behind, puts his hands on mine. It's Dad._

_"Hey, little man," he says. "Mommy needs to go now."_

_My arms are empty. I don't cry. Dad lifts me up, puts me down. I sit in Henry's lap._

_"Thank you," Dad says to him, "for watching them tonight." He kiss me, he kiss my brothers. Darry wipes his cheek with a groan, too old for this antics, Dad ruffles his hair with a laugh. I can't move. I have to tell them to stay. I know if they leave, they're gonna die. But I can't talk, and they leave, and I know they're dead.  
_

_My brothers argue about baseball cards on the floor. I can't breathe._

_"Boys? Want some ice cream?" Henry says. His voice is kind, but I know.  
_

_I'm the only one who does.  
_

_My brothers flies to their feet, cards forgotten on the carpet, and we hear them talk in the kitchen, putting bowls on the table. I wish they hadn't left me. Come back.  
_

_I can't breathe. I can't move._

_Henry grips my chin, turns my head to face him. Too close.  
_

_"You're just a baby," he says to me, voice mocking. "Daddy think's you're so smart and sweet, right? An innocent little boy."_

_I can't breathe. I can only stare. His fingers are gentle, but his eyes-_

_"Your daddy was innocent once too. He thinks." Henry puts his forhead down to mine. I feel his skin, his warm breath against my face. "He's a traitor. He was my friend, ya know." It's a whisper. But then, his voice gets stern. Angry. Dangerous. "But friends don't abandon each other. Do they?"_

_I can't talk. His fingers makes my head move, shakes it to a wordless 'no'. _

_"You agree with me," he says._

_"He thinks I've forgiven him. So silly." A frown appear. "Why do I talk to you, little Ponyboy?"_

_His grin shows yellow teeth. He's gonna eat me. I want to scream. I can't breathe. I want Mom, I want Dad, I want -  
_

_"You would never tell, right?" he whispers. "I can destroy you too if you do." He nods for himself. "Daddy wouldn't like that, would he? So you'll be nice to daddy, right?"_

_He fingers on my throat._

xXx

I can't breathe. My hands reach my throat, and I fly up, trying to suck in air. At an instant, Soda's awake too, his hand on my shoulder, telling me to calm down. I try.

"Come on, Pony, take a breath!" he urges, worry in his voice. He moves his hand to my back, stroking circles. And then I can breathe again.

"Geez, it's gettin' worse, right?" Soda says alarmed. "What the hell is it about?"

I lean into his fathom, and he curls his arms around me, rests his chin against the top of my head when I hide my face against him. And suddenly I want to tell him everything. I don't know why I can't. Maybe I'm afraid of what will happen if I do. Somehow it feels like Henry's still here, waiting for me to make a mistake. I know I kept my mouth shut when I was three, so why shouldn't I still do it now, ten years later? It has to be a reason for why I did it back then.

I know the reason. He told me not to tell. And I'm still scared of him.

"I don't know," I whisper. "I wish I did, but I don't know."

The worst is, my brother believe me. I'm alone in this.

xXx

It's hard to concentrate. I write down the same questions from the black board twice in my notebook, erase them all and have to start over. Then I do the same thing again. I sit in the back of the class room, but my deep sigh must've been heard to the front, because my teacher lifts her head from the homework she corrects.

"Ponyboy, come up front, please."

I don't want to. But of course I do anyway, I'm not a trouble maker. I stand in front of her desk, waiting for a scowling, but then I realize she's just concerned. I can't help wishing it had been the other way around, I don't like this attention to my person.

"Is everything all right?" she asks me, and I'm glad she speaks low. No one else than me can hear her. I nod at her question.

"Did you talk to Mrs. Ellis yesterday?" I nod at that too, and she smiles. "Good. I only wish what's best for you. You're my greatest student Ponyboy, but I would be sorry to have you another year."

I give her a weak smile in return. I know what she means. I'm supposed to skip ninth grade after the summer, go straight to ten, and High school, go with my brother and friends. And when I think about that, something else hits me. My dad went to this school too, and if he had childhood friends... before I know what I do, I open my mouth.

"Mrs. Nash, how old are ya?" She gives a little surprised sound, and I feel myself blush. I can't really believe I actually asked her that. "I- I just thought if you m-maybe were my Dad's teacher once," I say, stuttering over the words in a hurry to explain.

Her smile returns. "Well, I'm not that old, I think. But talk to Mr. Flynn, he's the oldest teacher here." Her voice lowers, and she looks like she's revealing a secret to me, still smiling, leaning forward over her desk. "He's over sixty."

"Okay."

"You can go sit down again, but don't be afraid of asking for help if you need it. About anything, Ponyboy," she adds.

Slowly I return to my seat. I'm glad she didn't ask me why I want to talk to my Dad's teacher. James turns around in the bench in front of me.

"What did she want?"

"Jus' talk about the schoolwork," I answer him, writing wrongs in my book again, erase them, starts over, until the lesson ends half an hour later.

xXx

I know Darry expects me to walk home straight after school, but since I know no one will be home anyway, I remain in the parking lot for over an hour, pacing and smoking to keep my warmth up. Then the teachers starts to drop out of the building, walks to their cars one by one or in small groups, some of them throwing glances my way. I dip my head, not meeting anyone's eyes, until the one I'm waiting for comes out, loudly talking to a collegue. I drop my last cigarette and step on it out of habit. It's snow on the ground, it's not like anything can catch fire. Then I open my mouth before I coward out.

"Mr. Flynn?"

He stops and watch me, then says his goodbye to the man he talks to before coming my way. I hate to talk to adults. I wish Darry had been here, he had known what to say.

"Yes?" He's bald and wear glasses, and he seems nice. I shift my weigth anyway, feeling uncomfortable and insecure. "You want something, son?" He studies me and I wonder what he thinks of me, my poor looking outfit and my greased hair. Then I remember, I'm not the only east-side kid in the school. It makes me more brave.

"Um. Yeah. I- I just wanted to ask you somethin'... about my dad," I manage to say, staring at the ground.

"Your dad?" Then he laughs low. "Don't be so scared, boy. I'm not gonna bite you." I glance up. "So, who's your dad? You think I know him?"

"His name's Darrel Curtis," I say. "I wonder if you maybe was his teacher."

"I had a Darrel Curtis in my class once, but I don't think he's old enough to be your dad."

"He's my brother." My hands drags at the straps of my backpack.

"I see. Well, I'm not sure I can help you. Why don't you ask your dad?"

I cringe at the question, force myself to speak the hateful words. "My dad is dead." I look down again so I can't see his expression, but I hear it in his voice when he talks next.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Was it recently?"

I don't like the way this conversation turns out. I don't want to talk about the accident. I ignore his question, even if he's just trying to be nice, I guess. He doesn't seem asking out of curiousness.

"I just wanted to ask about him and his friend. My dad I mean. If you remember him and a guy named Henry." I shiver, pretend for myself it's because of the cold.

xXx

I kick a small rock on the sidewalk, see it fly out onto the street with a rattled sound. I'm in a bad mood, and it's not doing it any better that I'm late, that my cigarettes have run out, that it's cold, that the old teacher didn't remembered anything at all about Henry. I'm not sure what it had helped me with even if he had. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just stupid. Things won't change even if I try to make them do it. And I still can't be sure my dreams has really happened either. I don't have any evidence, and I already know my brothers liked the man.

I mean, it can be just me, stressed about Mom and Dad, right? Because how much I try, I don't remember anything when I'm awake.

Our truck is not home, but several footprints in the thin layer of snow over the lawn tells me that some people probably is at our house. Slowly I open the front door and step inside.

"Hey." I drop my backpack, relieved it's only Two-Bit. He sits on the floor in front of the TV, turing around to face me.

"Where've you been, Ponyboy?" he asks me sternly, unlike him. Where is his corny smile?

"In school. And you're not my brother," I add, before he have the time to reply that school ended almost two hours ago.

"No, but your brother _Soda'_s out lookin' for ya," Two-Bit tells me. I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. I had hoped being home before him noticing me being late. I take my bad conscience out on my friend, snort at him.

"I'm not a kid. Why is he lookin' for me?"

"Don't be stupid, Ponyboy." Two-Bit rise, starts walking around me while I sigh. "Don't get me wrong, Ponyboy, I'm happy you're home safe and sound..." He frowns, studying me up and down with narrowed eyes. "You are, right?"

I push him out of my way. "Yeah, I am."

"So what happened?" he asks behind my back. I go to the kitchen, open up one of the cabinets to find a glass.

"Nothin'." I take the milk from the fridge, pours it. "I was with friends."

He sits himself down in a chair. I take a sip, still standing.

"Friends like in friends, or friends like in... a _girl_?" He wiggles with his eyebrows, almost making me laugh against my will. He can't be serious for a long time.

"Come on," I say, rolling my eyes, but I can't help but blush at the thought.

"Hey, you're old enough," he tease me at the same time someone walks through our door.

"Is he home yet?" Soda yells, but before I have the time to reply, he stands in the doorway, his solemn face turns to a grinning one when he sees me. "Where were you, Pone? School's been out for hours." He jerks his jacket off, drapes it over a chair. "I've been lookin' for ya. Steve's still out there."

"You didn't have to. You don't always comes home right after, " I defend myself.

"Yeah, but I'm sixteen," he points out, walks up beside me. He takes the milk I have forgotten on the counter, puts it back in the fridge and takes out a pack of sausages instead. "You're too young runnin' around town by yourself. You know about the Socs."

"He was with a girl," Two-Bit sticks in, grinning wildly. He leans back in the chair, hands behind the back of his neck.

"You were?" Soda looks amazed.

"No!" I growl, glaring at Two-Bit. "Stop it. I told you it was friends." I put the glass down. "You're so immature sometimes!" I push myself out from the kitchen, heading for my room. I can hear them laugh at me even after I've closed my door.

xXx

"I need to trust that you go home directly after school, Ponyboy!"

"It wasn't a big deal!" I shout back at Darry. "I have a life too! You never say anythin' when Soda-"

"Soda's older than you." He puts his index finger in front of my face. "One more time and you're grounded!"

"Hey, guys..." Soda sticks his head out from the kitchen. "Stop fightin'. Dinner's ready."

Darry sighs heavily, turning away from me. "I'm comin'."

I pout, mutter behind his back, "I'm not hungry."

I don't know how Darry knew I was home late, but I guess he met Steve outside. I'm sure neither Soda or Two-Bit told him, and he's been yelling at me since he stepped through the front door ten minutes ago. I'm not sure why, though, I'm home so he doesn't need to care about it, and he sure doesn't seem worried if that had been the case, only angry.

I thought he was finished, but my last sentence makes him turn around again.

"You're goin' to the kitchen, and you're goin' to it down and eat!"

I take a step back. "You're not my Dad!" I scream, regretting the words at the same time they fly out from my mouth, and the silence that follows them is hurting. At first we both freezes, it feels like a long time passing by, with Darry staring and I shivering, but finally my brother clears his throat, breaks the silence again.

"Pony..." He shakes his head. "Just go and sit down." He leaves me in the living room and I just want to cry. But I don't. I take a few shaky breaths, then I follow him.

The look on Soda's face is unreadable were he sits in his chair, watching us.

* * *

_Thank you so much for all reviews, and thanks for reading! Hope you like it!  
_


	8. The park

**Darker**

**Chapter 8 - The Park**

_I'm in the park. The big, old trees looms over my head, the large grass field is stretched out in front of my feet. If I look to my left, I know I can see the jungle gym, the swings, the sandbox, the fountain. The sky above me is blue, cloudless._

_I love the park. I hate it._

_Dad and Darry throws a football between each other, practicing. Soda in the middle tries to catch it too._

_"Stop it, Soda!" Darry complains when our brother tumbles into him, making him lose his balance. Darry drops the ball.  
_

_We climb in the jungle gym. Darry, being the oldest, fastest, wins the race to the top. Soda whines, trying to catch up. He's half way there. I sit in the sand underneath, place one hand on the lowest bar, feel the cold metal against my palm. I'm crying, and Mom picks me up._

_I want to climb too, but instead I sit in the sandbox. I have a spade in my hand. Soda comes, builds a castle with me. Then we trash it with our feet.  
_

_"I have to go home and start with the dinner," Mom says to Dad, and I look at her. I say to her that I want to come too, ask her to pick me up, hold my hand, take me with her.  
_

_She can't hear me, and she's gone.  
_

_"I can play with you," Henry says, gripping Soda's bucket, builds another castle with us._

_"Come and play!" Darry asks Dad. Henry looks at them, then me. _

_"We can let the big boys play football, okay?"  
_

_"I wanna build a big, big castle!" Soda says, shows with his hands over his head. "Can you help me, uncle Henry?"  
_

_"Sure." His eyes are on me. "I'll help you, and then you go and help your brother practice, right, Soda?"  
_

_"Mhm," Soda says. "Wake up, Pony!"  
_

xXx

I blink in the dark. I can't stop tremble. Soda's calm breaths can be heard to my left, and I turn around, snuggle beside him for comfort. I don't know what time it is, but I guess it's near midnight. I don't fall asleep again, just lie there in the darkness, for hours, staring at nothing, trying to comprehend what happened that day.

xXx

When the alarm clock goes off, my eyelids feel like someone has putting stones on them. Soda moves slightly in his sleep, but since I don't turn off the annoying sound, he finally lifts up his head from his pillow.

"Mornin'," he mumbles, reaches over me and fumbles with the clock. When it's silenced, he push himself back in place, but seconds later, leans himself on his elbow again, eyeing me.

"Hey, no nightmare?"

I could lie, make it easy for me. "Not really," I say instead. I don't know if it was a nightmare. It was like the days used to be, when we went to the park on sunny days when we were kids. Except for Henry's presence. I guess that was what woke me up, scared like always nowadays. But one thing can I be honest with. "I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep." But he's stuck on my first answer.

"Not really?" he repeats as a question. "So you did had one?"

I ignore them. "I don't think I can go to school today," I tell him, trying to make my voice pitiful.

"Ponyboy-"

"I couldn't sleep. I'm tired." I drag the cover over my head, but Soda digs me out.

"Come on," he says, close to my face. "You love school."

"No, I don't."

"You do!"

"If I do, you do it too."

I guess I had it coming when he starts to tickle me.

xXx

Somehow I survive the day in school without too much attention upon myself. I make sure to keep my head down, work in silence, smile whenever a teacher looks at me. I don't even sneak out to smoke during the break, so I don't risk to get caught, even if that makes me somewhat fidget in the last class. Lucky me, it's gym. The teacher wants us to run, and I love that. When it's time to play indoor soccer, James and I hang in the back as much as we can.

It's getting easier to pretend to be normal. Everyone around me in school pretend I am, so why shouldn't I? It's like I've stopped being contagious, like they understand that their parents won't die because of they meet my eyes or talk to me. I still wish this semester to be over, though.

After the last bell, I meet up with Johnny at my house. This time I make sure to leave a note for my brothers on the kitchentable, so they won't freak out again if I'm still missing when they get home. I don't know why Darry was so upset about it, Mom never was. I say that to Johnny while we head for the lot, telling him about the argue Darry and I had. I still think my brother is unfair. I'm not that young. And I know I can fight if I need to, it wouldn't be the first fight I'm involved in. He really doesn't need to know where I am all the time.

"Don't you think he just cares?" Johnny says when I finally comes to an end with my jabber, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I think he just tries to annoy me," I answer with a grimace. Johnny should take my side. "He just wants to be the one that tells me what to do all the time. But I'm not his kid." The words feels bad in my mouth. I'm not Darry's kid. I'm not anyone's kid anymore.

"Yeah, but... " Johnny starts. "I just mean, he's not used to it, ya know."

"I know that. And he's much better than a boy's home." It feels a bit awkward to talk about this with Johnny, but I don't have anyone else. I can't say these things to Darry, and Soda would just be sad if I tried. I don't think Dally or Steve would care at all, and Two-Bit is Two-Bit. But to complain about my brother in front of Johnny's bruised face makes me feel even worse.

"I just wish he could be more like my brother again, ya know. He's so different than he used to be. And he's not like Mom or Dad at all."

"Your parents sure was one of a kind," Johnny says. "'specially in this neighbourhood."

"They were more like Soda," I continue. It still hurts to talk about them, but this time, it feels nice too. I don't want to forget about them.

We have arrived to the lot, and I wrinkle my nose, wishing the spring could come faster when I realize we can't sit down at our usual place under the tree without getting soaked. Snow is great for a while, but now it starts to get boring. I try not to think about it as the reason for the wreck. That it wasn't snow and ice that killed my parents, just bad luck. Bad, bad luck.

Suddenly I shiver, like a cold wind blows through my clothes, but it doesn't. There's no wind this day. My eyes goes wide when it feels like a memory nags inside my head. Johnny looks at me when I suddenly stop short.

"What is it, Pone?"

"It's... it's nothin'."

_A word. I remember._

"You went all pale," Johnny continues.

_I just want him to suffer. Like I did._

"Ponyboy?" He tugs at my sleeve.

_No. I want more. I want him..._

"Pony!"

_...dead._

I jerk at his worried shout, staring at him like I just noticed he's here with me. I open my mouth, but no word comes out.

"Hey, talk to me!" he begs while I swallow down bile.

"I think I wanna go home," I finally manage to whisper.

xXx

But it's not possible, is it? It was an accident. Everyone says that, the police, the doctors at the hospital, the priest at the funeral, my brothers... and they have to know. They couldn't have been lying to me, right? Maybe they think I'm just a kid they have to protect, or maybe... maybe they _don't_ know. Maybe he, Henry, killed them without anyone knowing, and now-

"Pone, we're home," Johnny says, dragging me up the stairs to the porch. I follow him numbly.

-and now he's out there, somewhere -

Johnny open up our door, helps me inside, takes off my jacket and place me in the couch.

- and if he is, I can't tell them. He will be so mad at me. I must keep my mouth shut.

I lie back, close my eyes, and I don't open them again until I hear voices, concerned voices, Johnny's low and Soda's worried.

"I don't know," Johnny says. "It's like he just... "

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him. Thanks, Johnny."

Our door opens and closes, and someone sits down beside me, lies his arm around my shoulders. "Ponyboy?"

"Mmm?" I sit straight up instead. "I'm okay," I say.

"God, stop it!" he almost hisses. "You're not okay. What happened?"

"Nothin' happened!"

"Don't lie to _me_, Pony."

I blush. I know I shouldn't lie to him. Not to Soda. But I can't tell him. Not all of it. Frantic I try to think about something to say, something to explain myself with.

"It's just... this dreams kinda freak me out," I finally say low, avoiding his eyes. He says nothing for a long while, so I can't help but glance up at him. Of course he notice it.

"You said you don't remember them." He says it smoothly, not accusing at all. I know Darry would accuse me.

"I don't," I say, blushes more, and I think he knows I lie again, but this time, he doesn't say anything about it, just sighs heavily, so I continue. "I don't actually remember them, it's just this feelin'..."

"What feelin'?"

"Like..." I start, licking my lip. "Like... was it an accident?"

He frowns. "An accident? You mean Mom and Dad?"

"Yeah." I look down on my hands. "I think I dream that it maybe wasn't." It's close to the truth, right?

"Aw, Pone..." he hugs me, tight. His mouth are near my ear when he talks next. "We couldn't have done anythin'... I promise! It was black ice ya know... the police told us. They never saw it, they couldn't have done anythin' , and we neither. We couldn't have stopped it from happening."

He couldn't. Darry couldn't. But if I had said anything about Henry then, a long time ago...

...had it been different?

Was it all my fault that they died, because I never said anything?

Is he gonna kill me too?

xXx

At dinner I sit quiet, in my own thoughts. My brothers let me be, and I wonder if Soda told Darry about my breakdown. Probably. Darry's not on me for not doing my homework yet, and he knows it lies untouched in my schoolbag. Otherwise he had wanted to see it before we sat down to eat, but he hasn't even asked for it.

I'm trying to make up a list in my head, of things I should do, things I have to do. At first, I have to find out what happened between Dad and Henry. Why he hated him so much. And then, what happened when he disappeared. Why did it take ten years for him to come back? If it is him, that is.

And I have to try to figure out how. If he did something to their car, maybe. I know nothing about cars, but I know someone who does.

I put my dishes on the counter for Soda to wash. It's actually my turn to do it, but he lets me get off, just opens up the tap and tells me to take it easy. But when I'm thinking of going to my room, Darry stops me. He hands me my bag.

"I know you're tired, but you need to do your homework," he tells me. I sigh and take it, sit down in the couch. I still hasn't done all my math, and it's on due tomorrow, and I have a history report to do about the civil war.

I'm not done until one and a half hours later. I shut my textbooks, throw away my pen.

"You want me to check it?" Darry asks, and I hand him my papers. It's silent while he reads through it. "You made a few mistakes," he says.

"Okay."

"Here. Correct them."

I keep in a sigh and do as he says. I know he only tries to help me, but suddenly I feel angry. "What about Soda?"

"What?" Darry averts his eyes from the TV.

"Doesn't he have homework, too?" I erase a seven and write down a five instead. I don't know if it's right, but I'm to tired to care.

"Ask him," Darry says. I snort. It's obvious it's only me he is nagging on about school, about what I should do and can't do. But he's Soda's guardian too. He's not an adult either.

xXx

_We sit in the sandbox. Soda and Henry builds on the castle. I watch them, silent, unmoving. My brother babbles and laughs. Henry is nice to him. He's nice to me too, when everyone else is around._

_I'm confused._

_"Here ya go, Ponyboy," Henry says, gives me a stick with a green leaf on. "It's a flag," he smiles. "Put it on top of the castle."_

_I stare at the leaf. The bushes around us is filled with them. I wonder where Soda is. I hear him. I hear Dad and Darry too, but they're not here. Henry is. We're not in the sandbox anymore. The shrubbery is thick around us._

_"You know," Henry says to me, but he's not angry this time. He seems sad. "He broke his promise."_

_I sit down, pick at the grass with my hand. Staring at him._

_"I can show you what they did," he tells me. "It was his fault. You want me to show you?" _

_I stare. _

_He lifts his shirt. "Look!"_

_He has scars on his skin. _

_Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!_

* * *

_Review? Very appreciated if you would take the time. Criticism is very much welcome.  
_


	9. The coward

**Darker**

**Chapter 9 - The coward**

"Wait for me outside when school ends today," Darry says to me while putting his wallet in his pocket. I look up from my bowl of cereal, narrowing my eyes. I know Darry's work ends several hours after my last class, and he wouldn't pick me up just for fun.

"Why?"

He zips his jacket. "Doctor's appointment."

I should have seen it coming. I drop my spoon, frowning. "I said I ain't-"

"Yeah, but I said you will," he interrupts with a voice that dares me to object. So instead, I look at Soda for help, but he avoids my gaze, buries his face in his cup of chocolate. It feels like they have ganged up on me.

"It's just a waste of time and money," I grumble, leaning back.

"Let me decide that," Darry says. "Don't start a fight about this, and don't even think about not being there when I come and get you, okay? I can only leave early once, so we can't miss it."

"Don't worry." I glare at my food. Sometimes I think he just says things to make me angry on purpose. I'm not a little five year old he needs to bring up, and besides, it's not _I_ who has decided he needs to leave his work for a stupid doctor's appointment.

Darry picks up his keys from the counter, says a good bye and leaves. I search for Soda's eyes again, and after a while, he can't pretend not to see it anymore.

"You know it ain't necessary," I say to him when he finally puts his cup down.

"I do?" He sighs. "You woke up screamin' tonight too, Pony. You dream those nightmares every damn night," he enlightens me. Like I didn't know. I fold my arms, glaring. "We're just tryin' to help you," Soda adds, in an apologetical tone. I don't fall for it.

"Yeah, but what can a doctor do? They can't do a thing, Soda. How can they make me stop dreamin' about him?"

"Him?"

I want to bite off my tongue. I hadn't meant to let that slip. I press my lips together, stare down at the table top with blushing cheeks, hearing how Soda rise. He walks around the table, drags out the chair beside me and sits down. "_Him_, Pone?"

"I didn't mean to say that," I mumble. He sighs again, puts an elbow on the table and leans on it.

"Listen," he says. "Don't you trust me?"

Of course I do. So I nod.

"Then talk to me!" He stops leaning his chin in his hand to instead smash the palm against the wood, making me jump because of the sound. I can tell he's disappointed at me. He doesn't know I'm just trying to... what? Protect him? Or protect myself?

In a hope to get away, I take a quick look at the clock over the kitchen door - we're going to be late if we don't finish up breakfast now, but I guess Soda won't move until I've spoken to him. I place a hand on the table, nervously tapping at it with my fingers. I hate that he's so stubborn. I hate that I have to tell him. But maybe I don't need to tell him anything else than what he almost already knows. When I think about it, it could work.

"The nightmares I had when I was little... how were they?" I finally start.

"What do ya mean?" he asks me.

"I mean... what did I say about them?"

He watch me close when he answers, talking slowly. "You didn't said much. Just hollered and cried and stuff. I honestly don't remember that much, I was just a kid too."

"But I talked about, um... boogeyman?"

"Yeah. I remember that anyway. You cried about boogeyman comin' to get you. Is that what you mean by _him_? Is it your old nightmares that's back?"

I shiver. "So I thought he would come and get me? Did I say anythin' else?" I want to know.

"Geez, Pony." Soda rubs the back of his neck. "It's been like... forever ago. Told ya I don't remember much. It was Mom who used to comfort you."

I hesitate but then I say it anyway. "Are you sure I said boogeyman and not bug-man?"

"Bug-man?" He seems a bit confused by this. "Uh... I don't know. Maybe. I mean, you had some trouble speakin' right, so maybe. But why would you say that?"

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out if I should continue. Maybe I can try, just to see his reaction. "What if... what if he was real?"

I can see he starts to protest, so I quickly continue before he has the time to say anything. "A person. What if he was a person?" I hear myself how silly that sounds. But Soda doesn't smirk at me. Instead, he looks at me like he really tries to understand.

"Is that what you dream about?"

"Yeah," I breathes. "Like he... you know, exist."

"Pony, you know he doesn't. It was just somethin' you made up."

"Okay."

He stares at me, and I know I agreed to quickly. Soda's an expert to pick up what I don't say. "Then who do you think he is?" he says concerned.

I shrug, trying to look casual. "No one."

_Henry._

I regret saying anything. If Soda remembers who he gave the boogeyman role to when he made up that game, maybe he will know about Henry. But to my relief, he seems not to.

"Yesterday you said they had to do with the accident," he says instead.

"I didn't say that exactly. They are all fuzzy, Soda. I can't really tell, okay?"

"Ponyboy, I-" He is interrupted by the honk of a car horn. "Damnit," he mutters, takes a look at the time too before he gets up to rush to the bathroom. He shouts at me to hurry up, and I let my breakfast remain, walk to the door and put on my shoes. Sometimes I really do like Steve.

xXx

"You're not goin' home today?" James asks me when I make him company outside the schoolyard to wait for our rides. He knows I use to walk home since the accident.

"My brother will pick me up," I explain to him, still groaning inwards about it. I wish my brothers never had come up with this stupid idea.

"Oh." James looks away. I suppress a sigh. I hate when he does things like that. I wonder what he's afraid of. That I will start crying? That won't happen, and he should know that. It just kind of hurts me that we have known each other since kindergarten, and he has still not even said he's sorry. Not that I need pity. It would just be nice to know that some people cares.

"There's my Mom," he says relieved when a red ford pulls up at the curb, glances at me. "See ya tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Bye."

I watch him hurry off, jumping in. His Mom waves at me when they drive away, and I lift my hand too. Sometimes I wish James was more like Johnny. Johnny maybe doesn't say much, but at least he's understanding, and he's not afraid of mention things that's hard to talk about. I don't even know if I can call James a true friend. We hang out in school, but he has never been at my place, and I have never been at his either. I know he's not rich, but they have more money than we do, so I guess he's middle class. Sometimes I wonder if we're together so much in school only because we don't have anyone else to be with. He's kind of quiet, like I am. I guess smart too.

I fish up a pack of Khools from my bag, and it's when I light one I see him. He stands on the other side of the road, outside a little corner shop, drinking from a bottle. It looks like he's watching me, and first I don't really pay attention. But then he lowers the bottle, holds it just beneath his chin, and suddenly I'm positive it's me he's looking at. No one else is here. I can't see his face, how he looks like, he's too far away, but I start shaking anyway. I take a step back, then another, to hide myself behind one of the tree's lining the yard. A minute pass by before I dare to peek out. He's still there, staring at my direction.

Maybe it's not him, I try to convince myself. It can be someone else, right? Tulsa is a big city. I'm sure there are freaks everywhere. Maybe he's not even a freak, just a normal man.

In the same time our beat up truck stops beside me. I drop my cigarette and jump in, close the door with a loud bang. Darry raise his eyebrows.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'!"

My brother turns to me, one hand on the steering wheel. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I swallow, trying to calm down. "I'm just tired," I lie.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You can drive."

"Okay. Seatbelt," he tells me.

"I know!"

I can't help but glance backwards. The man is still there, and I can feel my heart beat wildly.

But I haven't told anyone. He can't do anything to me if I haven't, right?

xXx

"I told you it was a waste of time," I tell Darry when we leave the doctor's office. Darry rips the prescription of sleeping pills the doctor gave me into pieces, throws them in the nearest trash can. I don't know if I'm happy for it or not. Taking the pills had made me feel like something is wrong with me, but at the same time, if they had helped me with the nightmares... but Darry didn't even asked me what I want. He likes the 'activate him with football and homework-thing' more. I don't know if that will help me, though. I already feel exhausted every night when I go to bed.

"I do what I have to do, Ponyboy," Darry says. "I don't care if you costs money."

"Thanks a lot," I say sarcastically, and he sighs while open the passenger door for me.

"You know what I mean."

I do. "Sorry," I offer. And I mean it.

xXx

I peek out through our living room window, hiding behind the curtain. A man walks by our house, dressed in black. I wonder if he's the same man who watched me outside my school, but then I see the little dog he has in a leash, and I recognize it. I know they live only two house down from ours. Last year I even helped them to walk Tramp when Mr. Baker broke his leg and couldn't take him out.

I think I'm just starting to get paranoid.

"What are you doin'?" Soda asks me. He still struggles with his homework even if he had less than me. Or that is what he said. I suspect he maybe left some out, because I'm sure they have more homework in High school than Junior High.

I shrug for an answer, leave the window to sit down beside him. Steve sits in the recliner, looking to be in a bad mood.

"Stayin' for dinner, Steve?" Darry asks from the kitchen, and he looks up.

"Yeah. Thanks." The quick smirk disappears again.

"You can sleep in Pony's bed," Soda says to him.

"Soda!" I hiss.

"What?" He smiles at me. "He already knows, Pone."

"Oh." I blush, but at least Steve doesn't say anything about it. Sometimes he can be really spiteful the days his dad has kicked him out from their house. Not that I don't understand why he is, I just wish he hadn't taken it out on me. I wonder what else Soda has told him about me, why he doesn't tease me about sleeping in my brother's bed.

"The couch's fine," is all he grumbles.

xXx

_"Look!" he says, pointing. I don't want to see. It's scary. He grabs my chin, force me. _

_"It's your daddy's fault!"_

_I want to shake my head. Dad would never do that. I know. Dad's good. _

_Henry points at the round scars. Some of them are white, others bright red. "There's were they burnt me with their cigarettes. Do you see?"_

_I nod, wide eyed._

_"And here! Ya know what did this?" The scar is long and thick. " It's from a knife."His finger follows the line. _

_He lets go of the hem of his shirt, makes it cover his stomach and chest again. _

_"It should be your pa," he says."He was a coward." He spits in the grass. "He just left me there. We should do it together, and ya know what he did?"_

_"Daddy's nice," I mumble. I think it's the first time I say anything to him._

_"Shut up."_

_I do. He leans closer. "He never showed up. He was with your little Ma instead of me."_

_His eyes bores into mine. "It's his fuckin' fault I went to prison. I was fuckin' just seventeen!"_

_I stare at the grass. I don't want to look at him. I know prison is bad. Only bad people go there, my brothers told me. Sometimes when we play, we play cop and thief. Sometimes my room is the prison, because it's the smallest. Soda and Steve always wants to be the bad ones, and they sneak around in our house. Two-Bit wants to be the thief too, but he use to end up being the cop with Darry, and then he lets Soda and Steve pay him for help them escape. I'm always the victim. They use to pretend to steal my toys._

_I wonder if Henry stole toys._

_"You here me, Ponyboy? Your pa is a fuckin' coward!"_

xXx

I force myself to wake up. I hate that dream. From the park. What he showed me. I try to lie completely still, breathe slowly to not wake up Soda.

Henry was in prison. And he thought it was because of my Dad.

I think of the memory that came to me when I was with Johnny at the lot. Sometimes I wish that was the only one, but now I suddenly start to remember other things too. Small things Henry did when he was nice. Because he was too, I know. Otherwise, Mom and Dad would never have let him near us. I remember he played with us. Not only that game Soda made up, other things. He used to laugh a lot.

But as soon as he was alone with me, he said those things about dad. I wonder why, and why _me._ Maybe it was a mistake, maybe because I was so little, and he made sure I wouldn't tell. I just can't really believe no one ever noticed anything. I had dreams back then too. Soda says so. He wouldn't lie about that.

I turn around to watch my sleeping brother. Maybe I should tell him everything. I'm just afraid of what will happen if I do.

* * *

_Thank you so, so much for all your kind words! I hope you will continue to review this, so will I continue to update as fast as I can :)  
_

_I hope this chapter answered some of your questions.  
_


	10. The secret

_Warning: unpleasant event in this chapter, but I promise, it won't get any worse than this.  
_

**Darker**

**Chapter 10 - The secret**

I finish packing my bag, glancing at Soda's direction. I could do it now. It's easy. Just open my mouth, spell the words.

"Soda?"

He sits on the bedside, pulling on a pair of jeans. "Yeah?"

No. I can't tell him. Besides, it's morning, maybe I should wait until we get more time. "Um... nothin'." I turn around to go, but he rise hastily, buttoning his pants and reach out his hand to grip my wrist.

"Wait, Pone. What was it?" His eyes almost begs me to speak. But I shake my head.

"It wasn't anythin'." I force an assuring smile. "I forgot."

"You sure?"

I nod. I know he doesn't believe me. He has stopped doing that these days, thinks that I don't trust him. I hate that he's right. But it's really not that I don't trust him, it's more like I have a secret I can't share. I really can't. I comfort myself that he would understand if he knew, but deep down, I know that's a lie too. We used to tell each other everything.

He picks up his shirt from the floor, throws his arm around my shoulders, and then we walk to the kitchen. I shrug his arm off to sit down, Darry place a plate with toast on the table, and I take one, bites in it.

"Soda, get dressed," Darry says when Soda plops down shirtless. "Where's your shirt?"

"I have it," Soda says, showing it and then drags it over his head. "Geez, it ain't no hurry." He leans forward, snatch a toast.

"No hurry, huh?" Darry says with a smirk. "You should be happy I'm making breakfast every morning or you would be late."

"Nah," Soda says. "That wouldn't matter to me anyway," he tease, breaking off a small bit of his bread with his fingers, crams it into his mouth.

I listen absent-mindedly on my brothers banter for a while, chewing slowly. I have a lot on my mind. A lot of things I want to know.

"When did Dad meet Mom?" I suddenly say, and they both gets quiet.

Soda watched me, then glanced up at Darry. "Wasn't he like sixteen?" he wonders.

"Something like that. I know they met in High School, and then they got married after Mom's graduation." Mom was one year younger than Dad. Darry takes one of the sandwiches too, eats it standing.

When I think about our parents, I feel a bit jealous at my brothers. Soda got to have them for sixteen years, and Darry for twenty. Somehow it seems unfair I just got to turn thirteen and then lose them only six months after. Everything I haven't had the time for, or been to young to talk about or ask them, is too late now. And suddenly I feel so angry. In time, I guess I had accept the accident. An accident is no one's fault, but if it wasn't... Henry took something away from me. From _us_. I feel an urge to know. I have to know. My thoughts race when I'm drinking my milk.

"Who were they friends with?" I put my glass down.

"What?"

"Who were they friends with? In High school. When they met."

"Why do you want to know?" Darry asks, swallows his last bite down with coffee.

"Why not?" My eyes meet his. "I want to know and it's not like I can ask _them_ if I wonder somethin', can I?" I can see how my brothers share glances. "Forget it." I look away, through the window, with feelings inside I can't explain.

"No... Pone," Soda says. "C'mon... "

I have a lump in my throat that refuse to go away even if I swallow. I hear a scraping sound, it's Darry who drags out a chair to sit down.

"Ponyboy, listen to me," he starts. "You can ask me anything and I promise to answer if I can, okay?"

I don't answer, but it's not because I don't want to, it's because I can't. I think my brothers realize this, for Darry starts talking again.

"You mean back in school and not now?"

I nod. Darry drags a hand over his mouth, thinking for a while.

"Well, you already know about Elsie Mayer I guess. I know Mom has mentioned a couple of more friends but I don't remember any names. Sorry."

"'s okay," I mumble, somewhat able to speak again. It's not Mom's friends I want to know about anyway.

"Dad... you know Bruce Graham in Shepard's gang? His dad was one of his best friends when they went to school. You saw him at their funeral I think. He was there."

I nod. I can't believe I never thought about that. It came a lot of people to their funeral, friends and neighbours and Dad's collegues from work. Most of the people I had never seen before or didn't recognized, but-

I stop short in my thoughts. What if Henry was there! I try to search in my memory, but the day is all hazy, I don't remember most of it. Just how sad and scared I was. I probably wouldn't recognize him anyway.

"Pony?"

"Mmm?" I look up, realize that Darry continued talking when I didn't paid attention.

"You listening?"

"Um..."

"Okay. Then there was Henry you asked about the other day, and I think they used to hang out with a guy named Mike too." He's quiet for a while. "Is it something else?" I shake my head and he rise. "Okay. I have to go. Take care today, okay?"

Soda looks at me strangely when Darry has left.

"I know there's somethin' that bugs you, Pony," he says, searching for an answer in my expression. "What are you gonna ask them?"

I can't help but blush. "Who?"

Soda rolls his eyes. "Their friends, Ponyboy."

"I'm not gonna ask them anythin'," I lie. "I just wanted to know."

"Okay." Soda sighs. "Just don't go near Graham's place alone, all right? If you have to, take me with you."

"I ain't gonna-" I stop, narrow my eyes. "Why?"

"Because," Soda says, "even if he was Dad's friend once, it doesn't mean he's a good guy now. He kinda reminds of Johnny's dad."

xXx

"Hey."

Curly Shepard sits with his friends behind our school, and it's a bit awkward to approach the benches they occupies. I like him, and we used to play sometimes when we were kids, but I know he doesn't sees me like one of the tough guys that usually surround him. But he's nice to me when we talk, even if it's kind of rarley.

"'sup, Curtis?" he asks me when I stop a few feet away.

"Good," I say, even if it's not. I stick a cigarette between my lips, don't even care to look behind my back. The greasers in front of me are puffing, so I know no teacher is around. One of them leans his head close to another's, whispers something, and the one receiving the message looks up at me.

"Ain't you the kid who's parents got smashed against that tree?"

"Shut up," Curly says, smacking the back of his head. I take a long drag on my cigarette, feeling grateful. I don't care to answer, they know it's me because of Curly's antics.

We smoke until the break is over, the others small talking as I stand quiet next to them. When the bell rings and we head in, I walk a little slower. I guess Curly notice, because he turns his head, stops.

"Want somethin' Curtis?"

I think he's smarter than he pretends to be. Sometimes I don't get it, why it's more important to show yourself tough than smart, when everyone knows that you need some brain to really survive on our streets, on our side of town. Only toughness means nothing if you die because of it.

Curly's brother Tim would never be the leader of his gang if he hadn't been intelligent too. He knows what to say to people, how to handle them, how to make sure no one gets too hurt in rumbles and fights. He knows how to not get caught when crossing the law. I know Curly looks up to him, wants to take over some day, but all he does nowadays is ditching school and shoplift, and he's not good at hide it either. It's just a matter of time before he ends up in reformatory, but he seems not to care. But right now he's here, and I need his help.

"I need to talk to Bruce Graham's dad," I say to him when the others has disappeared inside. "You think I can come to your place someday and, I don't know, you can show me where they live?"

"Sure." He doesn't ask why. He knows better than that. I think of what Soda said, but if I bring Curly, it can't go that bad.

I reach for the door, glance over the schoolyard, over the road. The sidewalk on the other side is empty.

xXx

The whole way home I keep glancing over my shoulder.

xXx

"What do ya want, kid?"

Steve sits on a workbench in the garage at the DX, flipping through a magazine. An unlit cigarette hangs in the corner of his mouth. I stand leaning against the doorframe.

"Soda's here?"

"No."

"Where is he?" I don't really look for Soda. Steve's the one I'm here for, but I can't tell him that.

"He's with Sandy."

"Oh." I look down, then up, takes a step forward. Steve sighs.

"What?" he growls.

"Where do they take cars after a crash?"

"If it can't be fixed it would be the junk yard." He turn the page. "Is that all you came here for?"

"Um, no." I swallow, brace myself. "What if it wasn't ice that... that made them crash? What if it was the car?"

Steve looks up, and I guess he can see in my face what I mean.

"Geez!" He throws the magazine, jumps down. He walks up to the car with the open hood, and it feels like he ignores me.

"I just want to know if someone checked it after," I say to him.

"Yeah?" He picks up some tool from the toolbox next to his feet.

"What if somethin' was wrong with it?"

I can see how he stiffens. Then he turns around to face me. "There was nothin' wrong with the car," he frowns.

"How d'you know if no one have checked it?" His expression makes me nervous. "What if someone did somethin'-"

"Kid!" Steve says. "It was a fuckin' accident. Deal with it."

"Yeah, but-"

"Goddamnit, Ponyboy. If you're accusing _me_ for somethin', just spill it!"

I'm taken aback of his outburst. "I'm not accusing you," I say, wide-eyed.

"Yeah? You know damn well that it was usually me who served their car, so if somethin' was wrong with it, it would me my fault."

I don't know what to say. My cheeks are red, I can tell. I stare down at the grey concrete floor.

"I didn't mean it like that," I finally manage to say. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, then continues working on the car. I go home.

xXx

_I know I don't want to be here. I know that I need to wake up. I know there are some things I really don't want to remember.  
_

_"You want me to show you?" he says, and shows me the scars on his stomach, force me to see. Trails them with his finger, the white and red spots and lines. _

_"Your pa was a fuckin' coward!"  
_

_He sits silent. A long time. I want to go but I can't. Henry seems about to cry, and I don't know what to do. I crawl to my feet, approach him, hear the voice in my head that tells me to run. Stand before him when he starts talking again.  
_

_"You know what else?"  
_

_I want to say no. The grass is so green it hurts. The voices of my family so close, but so far away. Dad Darry Soda. They're here but not.  
_

_"You know what else they do in places like that?" he spits, close to my face. "It shouldn't be me. I shouldn't been there. If your dad had come with us that day, none of it would have happen."_

_Wake up! I try.  
_

_I don't this time._

_"I should show you what they do. No one knows what they did to..." He trails off, his eyes burning.  
_

_My heart jumps in my chest, jumps out, and I put my hands on his chest when his mouth covers mine. He's too strong. I can't breathe. His tongue suffocates me. His hand finds the hem of my shirt, finds my stomach.  
_

_I don't want to be here. Wake up!_

_It could be a minute, it could be just a second, then he push me. Push me away and I fall in the green, green grass. _

_"Damn it," he says. "Fuck! Fuckin' damn it." He wipes his mouth, looks at me, looks afraid all sudden. "You're just a fuckin' kid! I- I can't- damnit!"  
_

_I stare. He shakes his head, hides it in his hands before he rips them away, glares at me.  
_

_"It's your daddy's fault," he hisses, angry now. "I just want him to suffer, like I did."_

_Then. "No, I want worse. I want him dead!"_

_I'm crying. I want Mom._

_He grabs me. "If you tell them anythin', I swear to God I'll kill ya," he whispers. "You can never hide from me, Ponyboy. I'll find you! I'll kill you! I'll crush you."  
_

_He squeezes his thumb and index finger in front of my eyes. "Easy as that!" he says._

_He stands up, holding me. _

_We're at the field. My brothers run with the football. Dad looks at me, the tears._

_"He fell," Henry says. "Right boy?"_

_And I nod, red eyed and snotty-nosed._

_I remember falling in the grass. I don't remember anything else.  
_

_I don't._

_But I remember bug-man. He haunts my dreams._

xXx

It's the second time a dream makes me throw up, but this time, it's so much worse. Everything rush back to me and it's not just a dream anymore. I cling to the toilet, crying as the bile pass my throat.

This time it's Soda who sits beside me, holding me up, but I wish he hadn't been here. I know Darry pace the hallway, but I wish he didn't. When I'm empty, I push Soda away, crawls to my feet and the water in the tap. I make it as cold as I can when I clean my face in it. I take my toothbrush, I need to wash the taste away. The taste of vomit and dream and... _him_.

"Ponyboy," Soda says, standing behind me.

"Go away," I sniff. "Just go."

He makes it simple, but stern. "No."

Five minutes later, he jerks the toothbrush from my hand. "C'mon," he says when I glare at him.

We lie in the bed. It's not dreams, it's memories, and I hate them, hate them, hate them. I wish I never had remembered. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all this.

"I hate him," I whisper to Soda.

* * *

_Okay, so I'm always nervous when I put up a chapter, but this time I'm really nervous. It wasn't easy to write, truth is, really, really hard! But I had to have something worse than words and threats for the forgetting/not telling-thing. Please don't hate me/the story. Be nice..._

_(And like I said, PROMISE what's written is all that happened. It's bad enough. No more of that kind of things.) _


	11. The promise

**Darker**

**Chapter 11 - The promise  
**

I hear them whisper outside the room, but I don't care. I turn around to face the wall, lie as close to it as possible, breathing on the dirty white wall paper. The cover is up to my ears, my eyes open, closed, open.

I want to empty myself. I want everything to go away. The morning light shines through the window, but it doesn't help. Everything feels darker. Everything. I hear Darry say something to Soda, then light steps over the floor. I don't hear the door, but I hear the sound from the truck and I know he left. At the same time, I feel a shift in the matress, a hand on my shoulder.

"Ponyboy?"

I crawl into a ball. I don't want to face him, or my memories, or anything.

"Darry had to go to work," Soda says, gentle, like he's talking to a small child. Maybe he does. I don't feel big right now. "He... he can lose it, ya know." He sounds defeated. "So he had to."

I don't care. I'm happy he left. I wish Soda would do it too.

"You want somethin' to eat?"

Silence.

"Pony..."

Go away, Soda.

A new shift in the matress, and first I think he's about to walk away, but he's not. Instead, he lies down next to me, throws his arm around me, breathes in the back of my neck.

"Talk to me," he begs. "Please, Pone. You scare me."

I scare my brother. I blink. I breathe. I don't do anything else.

xXx

I could have lie all day, and that was my plan, what I wanted to do, what I needed to do. Just stop. With everything. But my bladder doesn't agree with me. When I can't hold it anymore, I push the cover away, rise up on shaky legs. I try to sneak, but when I open the bathroom door again, Soda stands on the other side. He has left me alone until now, but I know he has observed me, I have felt his eyes upon me now and then.

"You're up." He says the obvious. He's not relaxed. He seems as nervous as me.

I don't let go of the door handle. Soda takes a slow step forward, uncurls my fingers from the metal, keeps my hand in both his. Tugs me to the living room. I follow.

"So I've been thinkin' for a while," he says to me where he sits next to me, so close, in the couch. "About those nightmares of yours and the boogeyman and stuff."

I sit stiff beside him. I don't want him to remember anything.

"And you said that he... maybe he was a person?"

I hold my breath, stare at my hands. Please no. I don't want him to even mention the name.

"Pony... it's me, isn't it?" Soda looks at me, devastated. That make me jerk, wake up from the apathy I'm into.

"What?"

"I know you don't remember. I mean, I don't either, but I talked to Darry ya know, and he said it was me who made up some game, some boogeyman-game, and we used to play it."

I feel nauseous again. "It's not you," I tell him fiercely. "It's not."

"Pony, listen." He grabs my shoulder. "_I_ made up that game. I used to tell you to hide and then I hunt you, and - and then you got all those nightmares. It's my fault."

"It's not you," I repeat. "It's not, Soda. It's... it's someone else, okay?"

"Yeah, but you refuse to tell me, don't you? So I ain't sure I believe you." I hear him mutter a _goddamnit_ under his breath. Then he says, "Just tell me who it is then, if it ain't me." It sounds like a challenge. I won't win it.

I close my eyes. "No one. Nobody. I don't know." I already know I can't convince him.

xXx

An hour later, I fall asleep on the couch while Soda's making dinner.

xXx

_"What did you do, Ponyboy?" Soda says, pointing. "You killed them."_

_"No."_

_"You killed them," Darry repeats, puts the shovel in the ground. He digs a hole. Six feet._

_Mom hugs her thin body, blood drips from her forhead._

_"You should've told us about Henry," she says. "He broke our car. He made it crash."_

_"Pony." It's Dad. "He was my friend. What did you do to him?"_

_"I didn't do anythin'..."_

_"We know you did. You can't pretend anymore."_

_I'm in the park. I look at my stomach, the scars that cover it, and Henry says, "I ain't nobody, Ponyboy. You should know."_

xXx

In the end of my shower, I turn the water to cold, stand under it and count to ten. I'm freezing when I step out, take the towel and drape it around me. At least I'm more awake. Determined. So I remember now, but I don't have to react to it, do I? I have lived with it in ten years, it's not like I couldn't handle it before. Even if I handled it by forgetting, I can do it again. Push it away, pretend it's just a dream, a nightmare that didn't happen for real. I can do it.

I get dressed and unlock the door, go to my room and throw myself on my bed. I try to read the half an hour my hair dries itself, and then I make my way to the front door, grab my jacket from the closet. I'm just about to take it on me when Soda comes out from the kitchen, stops short when he sees me.

"Where're you goin'?"

I freeze for a moment, then continues sticking in my arms. "Curly's."

He frowns. "I don't think that's a good idea," he starts, approaching me. He stands between me and the door, but I don't know if he does it on purpose or not.

"I have to." I drag up the zipper. "I promised my teacher I would help him with his math." I find my boots. "He has a test on Monday. He really needs it. My help."

"Are you sure you're feelin' alright? 'Cause-"

"I'm okay."

I can tell he doesn't want me to go. But I also know he doesn't want me to lie in my bed all day, curled up in silence, or fall asleep on the couch, wake up screaming either. I ate my dinner, I did normal conversation, and now I watch him, with my eyebrows raised, making my expression say, 'I'm perfectly fine, don't you see?' So what can he do?

"Two hours," he says. "If you ain't home in two hours, I'll come an' get you. Okay?"

xXx

It's not that far to Curly Shepard's house. I pass our neighbours and the lot, crossing a street and walk on Johnny's. His house lies in the corner, small and worn, and I stop when I see him on the porch.

"Hey," I say, I can't just pass by when he has seen me.

"Hey, Ponyboy." He rise and takes the steps, approaching me. "Goin' someplace?"

"Curly's. Um, he need help with math."

"Oh," he says, staring down, scrapes the toe of his shoe against the asphalt. "You, uh, alright?"

I feel slightly annoyed. Why does everyone have to ask me that? But I guess I doesn't look too hot. I know I'm pale, dark under my eyes, and tired, tired all the time.

"Yeah." I study him. No new bruises, but I ask him the question back.

"I'm good," he answers. I hear someone shout inside his house, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't turn around, doesn't even glance over his shoulder. He's used to it. A beat up pack of smokes emerges from his jackpocket, and I take the stick he offers.

"Wanna come?" I suddenly say, then bite my lip. I shouldn't take him with me. But the way he lights up, I can't take it back. So when we approach Curly's house, I have to admit I'm not going to help Curly study. Johnny smiles.

"Like I didn't knew," he says. "Curly doesn't care 'bout math, and even if he did, I doubt he would do it on a Saturday."

"I guess I have to work on my lies then," I joke, embarassed.

"So what is this about?"

I stop, lean myself against a fence. "You can't tell anyone," I say to him. "And I mean it."

"Okay?" He seems unsure.

"Not even Soda."

"Okay."

"We're goin' to Bruce Graham's place, cause I'm gonna ask his dad things about my dad."

He toss his cigarette butt on the ground. "What kind of things?"

"Just things," I avoid his question.

xXx

Curly's not home. I can't believe I didn't thought about that possibility. After all, why should he be home a Saturday afternoon? His mom stares at us with tired eyes, answers "How the hell should I know?" when I ask where he is. I don't even bother to ask anything else, I just excuse us and we walk away.

I can't go home. If I do, Soda would wonder. I don't know the reason, if it's me who lead us there or Johnny, but suddenly we stand in the outskirt of the park, and the memory the dreams brought back of it makes me shudder. Before I know what I do, I start walking, and I don't stop until I stand at the playground, staring down in the sandbox, like the castle we build would remain, with the little leaf-flag on top, and I _remember_ I put it there.

I remember how Henry told Soda to help Darry practice to be a football star, and he rushed, eagerly, and how Henry called Dad and told him he would take me for a walk, and my small hand in his big... I look down on my hand now. Why did I walk away with him? It was my fault it happened.

"Pone?" Johnny asks, and I hear he's afraid. I probably zoned out again.

"There should be some shrubbery around here," I say to him. I heard them play at the field, it must be close to the place. I jog over to it, stop, stare around.

"What are you doin'?"

"Lookin' for the shrubbery." It should be leafless, bare by now, but I can't see anything at all. Maybe it never happened, but I know it did, or the bushes has been taken away, cut down. I don't know why I even care, why I'm looking for it.

Maybe it's my way trying to cope.

"What shrubbery?"

"It was a shrubbery. We were there. I could hear them play football so it must've been here somewhere." I stare around. But all I can see is naked trees, brown ground, spots with snow. And someone walking in the park. _It's him._

I take Johnny's arm and drag him along, run away from there. I can hear him pant, telling me to stop, but I don't until we are at the lot.

"Geez," he tries to catch his breath again. "You ain't even breathless."

I pace the sidewalk, running my hands through my hair. I want to go home. I want to go home. What time is it?

Johnny shrugs, stares at me, follows me with a worried gaze. "I don't know." And then I realize I said it out loud.

xXx

Soda sits in the kitchen when I get home. I stop on the treshold, Steve's here too. And the way they both look at me makes me turn around and walk to my room. But before I have the time to close the door, someone else grabs it too.

"What is this all about, Pone?" Soda asks me. "Steve told me-"

"Steve can never shut it, can he?" I snarl. I go to sit down on my bed, crawl backwards to lean myself against the headframe.

"You really think someone did somethin' to their car, Ponyboy?" Soda sounds like he can't believe it. "Why?"

"No." I drag my knees up, put my forhead down against them, curl my arms around my legs. "And I didn't accuse Steve. I told him."

I hear a deep sigh. "I know you didn't. He knows it too." Soda sits down next to me. I don't look up.

"I know it's hard to think they're gone. I can hardly believe it. I wait for them to come home, ya know, thinkin' of things I have to tell Mom or show Dad all the time," Soda says softly.

Me too. But I don't say anything. He continues.

"And I know it's hard to find a reason for why it had to happen. Dad wasn't a reckless driver. And maybe it's easier to think it was somethin' wrong with the car than his driving skills, but-" another sigh,"-it wasn't Dad's fault either, Ponyboy. Things like this happens sometimes. When you're old enough to learn how to drive you'll see it ain't that easy. Sometimes it doesn't matter if you're careful or not. It can happen anyway."

"I don't think it's Dad's fault," I mumble. "I know it - I know it was an accident, but..." Should I tell him? Can I tell him?

Soda nudges my shoulder. "But what?" he persuades me. I have to do it. Now.

"But what if someone said somethin'..." I lift up my head. "What if someone wanted him to die?" My voice is a bit shaky. I'm really doing it.

Soda looks confused. "Who? Dad?"

I nod. I chew on my nails.

"Why would anyone want that?"

"Because..." I face the wall instead. I can't look at him. "Because he maybe... disappointed someone."

"Pony, what are you talkin' about?" Soda grips my chin, turns my head to face him, and the act is so similar to my dreams that my heart speeds up. I flinch my head backwards and he lets go, lets his hand fall limp back in his knee. "What are you talkin' about? Who's 'someone'?"

I have his name on my tongue. I can just say it. Say it. Say it!

"Henry."

His respond comes sounding surprised. "Um, what? The one you've been asking about? Dad's friend Henry?"

"Yeah." It's just a whisper. I force the next sentence over my lips. "He said he wanted Dad to die."

Soda looks aghast. "What? He _told_ you that? When? I mean, we haven't even seen the guy since we were kids!"

"He told me then."

"When we were kids? When you were like three years old?"

I nod. It takes some minute, then Soda suddenly looks relieved.

"Aw, Pone..." He throws his arm around me, drags me closer. "I don't think you have to worry about that. I'm sure he never said that. Why would he?" He leans his cheek against my hair. "You were just a little kid, and if he even said somethin' similar I'm sure you got it all wrong. He was a nice guy."

"But he said it. I dream about it." I can hear how it sounds. "It's my dreams," I repeat.

"Dreams ain't real, Ponyboy," Soda's trying to sooth me. "It's just, um... mixed up thoughts and stuff. We read about it in school. I'm sure they're scary the way you scream bloody murder, but I promise you they ain't real. Okay?"

He doesn't believe me. It stings. It hurts more than I thought was possible. I told him and he thinks it's my head that make things up. I know he probably just wants to calm me, wants to make me feel better, thinks that what he says are the right things to say.

They probably are. Dreams are not true. How can I tell if my memories are real? The doctor Darry took me to told me I have a lively imagination, that's why I have all these nightmares.

Maybe it's not my brothers who should believe me, maybe it's me who should believe them.

"I promise, Ponyboy," Soda says, kissing my head. "But I wish you had told me sooner what your dreams really are about."

I don't. I wish I hadn't told him at all.

* * *

_Thank you for everything! You're awesome! _

_Please review :)_


	12. The junkyard

**Darker**

**Chapter 12 - The junkyard**

"So it's this Henry you dream about every time you wake up screamin'?"

"Yeah." I lay my arms on the table, my head upon them. Soda stands at the stove, making pancakes for supper, and he keeps asking me questions I don't feel like to answer. But at least I try, without saying too much. There are things I really don't want him to know. Things I wish I hadn't known either. I don't know why I'm mad at him, because if he was right, it had been better. Maybe that's the biggest reason I'm mad. I wish I had believed him, but I can't.

He shakes his head, pouring batter in the pan. "I don't really get it," he says. I grumble something. "Pony?"

"What?"

He throws a glance over his shoulder. "But why him? Why now?"

He seems much happier now than earlier today. I guess it's because he doesn't think he's the cause to my nightmares anymore.

"Maybe it's because of what he told me," I mutter into my arm, so he won't hear. I hate this conversation. I wish he didn't acted like all is fine and dandy now when I have spoken. Maybe he thinks the nightmares will stop, that everything will be okay. That me speaking is enough to fix it.

"Huh?"

I sigh, stretch up to sit normal. "I guess it's because my head keeps mixing things up." I try not to sound sarcastic, but he catch it.

"I didn't mean it like that, Pony," he tells me apologetical. "But we're all stressed right now. This with Mom and Dad-"

"You don't have to tell me that," I snap.

The little happiness he has disappears from his expression. I hear a car door slam and almost feel panic. "Soda? Don't tell Darry."

He flips a golden brown pancake to fry on the other side. "Yeah, sure." He says it hastily, like he only agree because he knows I'm mad at him. Like he tries to make something up to me. "But why?" he adds.

"I just don't want to." The front door opens. "Please?"

He frowns. "I won't, but maybe you should."

"Should what?" Darry heaves himself down in a chair. "Damn, I'm tired."

"Set the table," I hurry to say, and get up on my feet. I find what I need in our cabinets and drawers, and when I'm done, Soda puts the plate with pancakes in front of us.

"Pony, we have to talk about this morning," Darry says as he pierce some pancakes with his fork.

"What about it?" I ask suspiciously.

"For instance, it was the second time you woke up sick because of a nightmare." He studies me. "And you were really... upset when I left."

"I told you I don't know why. I don't remember anythin'." I feel Soda's eyes upon me, but I stare down at my plate instead, hold my fork and knife in tight grasps. It's he who says that they're not real, so why does he bother if I tell Darry or not? He can't do anything about it. I won't believe him either when he says it's just dreams.

"I just don't know what to do," Darry says. "More than test that 'activate you-thing' the doctor proposed."

"I can do that," I say to him. "Can we please talk about somethin' else now?" I start eating, hoping that's a sign for them to shut up about my nightmares. The rest of the meal I try to eat in silence. When my brothers tries to talk, I only give them one word answers. I pretend not to see the way they look at each other.

xXx

_"Ponyboy." It's a whisper. It's him.  
_

_Soda takes my hand. "Come on, Ponyboy! Hide from boogeyman!" Then he's gone, and I'm alone in the house. I open a door, tumbles out in the shrubbery._

_I can't be here. I have to run.  
_

_"You know what they do in places like that?" Henry says. "You want me to show you?" _

_I run. He chase me. My legs won't move. I try to lift my foot, knowing he's getting closer. He stands on the other side of the street, watching me._

_"Dreams ain't real, Ponyboy," Soda says. _

_"He's real," I say. "He stands there. Look! Please look!"  
_

_He doesn't. "It never happened, Pony. It was just you mixing things up," he says.  
_

_"He's there! He's real! Help me!"_

_"It's just a dream Ponyboy. You were just a little kid." He still refuse to look. I still can't move. He still getting closer. _

_"Soda!"_

_"He doesn't care about you," Henry whispers. "He doesn't believe you. He won't protect you."_

_He grabs me and I scream._

xXx

Someone leans over me, and I put up my hands, push him away.

"_No_, _don't_..."

"Pone! Wake up... Ponyboy!"

I open my eyes, gasp. But it's not Henry's cold eyes I meet, it's Soda's warm brown that stares down at me. They are wide open in the lit room.

"Was it the same again?" he asks me softly when I have managed to calm down. I sit up in bed, his hand on my back. I realize I'm even angrier at him, an odd feeling. I'm almost never angry at Soda. I can't even remember the last time I was.

"No," I grumble. I really want a cigarette. Mom never liked it when we smoke inside, but I don't care right now. She's not here. She will never be here again, I don't have to care about what she used to say. I stretch down to the floor, reach my jeans and the pack in my pocket.

"So what was it this-"

"Why does it matter?" I snap at him. "You won't believe me anyway." I can't find my lighter, so I toss the jeans back, rise to the floor.

"Pony..."

"What? You didn't yesterday!" I take a few steps back, lean myself against the wall opposit the bed. Soda sits on the edge, looking sad.

"I do believe you-"

"No, you don't. You said they ain't real!" I put the stick between my lips.

He stands up too, walks so he stands right in front of me. He takes the cigarette from my mouth.

"Are they?"

I feel weird. "I don't know." I don't want them to be. I hug myself, stare down. I can't meet his eyes.

"If you think they are-"

I interrupt him for the third time. "I don't wanna talk about it." God, I want that cigarette. I stare at it, and Soda notice, gives it back. I still have no lighter, but my brother rummages the drawer in his desk, toss a pack of matches to me. My hand shakes when I lit up. Soda sits quiet all the time when I smoke, and when I'm done, he just scoots over, makes room for me and turns off the lamp.

"Pony?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitates for a moment, like he's thinking of what to say. But I already know what words he will offer before he says them. "No one killed them. It was just an accident. I promise. Okay?"

I stare out into the dark room. "Okay." Maybe he will live in denial. Maybe he doesn't want to know. But I do. And I'm gonna find out the truth.

xXx

"You're way too sullen. Lucky you I came by," Two-Bit says.

"You're standing in the way," I mutter, lean to my left to catch what happens on the screen. Two-Bit turns around, then back a second later.

"Seriously, Ponyboy?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

He gape at me. "Why not? Geez, I could write you a whole essay 'bout why that-" he points at the TV, "-should be forbidden to watch on a lovely Sunday afternoon."

I don't know what's lovely about today. "You've never written an essay for your entire life," I tell him.

"Never said that. I said I _could_." And by that he switch the button. I fold my arms.

"I was watching that."

"And now you're not!" He gives me a big smile, throws himself down in the recliner. "You should be more thankful, Ponyboy," he lectures me.

I snort at him, but can't help but smile a bit. This day has been lousy until now. My nightmares won't leave me alone, and I'm tired and scared and feel so lonely. Steve came by some hours ago and Soda left. This time he actually asked if I wanted to come too, but I said no. I don't care if he understands that I'm grouchy at him. And I think he does.

"Two-Bit?"

"No, I won't." He puts up his index finger. "It's bad for your young eyes."

"What?"

"That means, no, I'm not gonna start the TV again."

"I wasn't gonna ask that." I hesitate. Two-Bit can be a bigger chatterbox than Steve sometimes. But he's my only chance since I can't ask my brothers, Johnny can't drive, and Dally has been absent the last days. And I know Steve would tell Soda at an instant. "Can you drive me to the junkyard?"

xXx

It lies in the outskirt of Tulsa, after rows and rows of ugly industries and abandoned houses. Two-Bit parks his car outside the gate, looks at me.

"We're here."

I nod. I'm nervous. "Stay here," I tell him and jump out before I can change my mind. But of course he doesn't listen.

"No way, kiddo."

I roll my eyes at him, knowing it won't matter what I say, he'll come anyway. We walk through the open gate, and I stare. I have never been here before. There are stacks of demolished cars, but also cars that looks almost new parked. Some of them has small price tags hanging from the wipers. It smells bad.

"Look at this!" Two-Bit says, walks to one of the buyable cars.

"Why do they sell cars here?" I wonder, stepping up beside him.

"They're confiscated or broken. Sometimes they sell the whole car, but sometimes just the parts," Two-Bit explains, looking through the window, his hands shield his eyes. "Steve would love this baby."

I balance on my heels. "I'm gonna look around for a while." I walk away quickly before he has the time to protest. The place is big. It takes me twenty minutes to find it, and when I do, it feels like a punch in my stomach. I have to brace myself for not sink down to my knees and break down. At first I just stare, don't want to go closer, but I must.

The whole front is just a gaping hole. The windscreen is gone, only small shards of sharp glass lines the frame. Both front seats is totally damaged. Tears fill my eyes. It's too obvious they didn't had a chance.

Steps behind me makes me quickly wipe my eyes. I think it's Two-Bit, but when I turn around, it's a man in a blue jumpsuit.

"What are you doin' here?" he asks me, not unfriendly.

I can't answer. I just look back at Dad's car.

"Yeah, that was a nasty wreck," he answers a question I never pronounced. "The tree almost split it in half." He walks up to it, looking in. "Three people died on instant. Flew right through the windscreen. I heard when the ambulance showed up they couldn't find them first, but they all lay there, in the snow, completely dead." He pats the car. "Yup. Real nasty."

I glare at him, sad and nauseous. It's my parents he talk about, details I don't want to know about. I wish he hadn't told me that. Then I realize what he just said, and blink. My voice comes out unsteady. "Three?"

He shrugs. "That's what I was told. I think it said so in the newspaper."

I don't understand. "It was my- my parents car. They were only two."

"If you say so." He sounds uninterested. "So you just came down here to watch, huh?"

I have almost forgot what I came here for. My heart throbs so fast it hurts, and all I want to do is lie down and bawl. But I can't do that. Not in front of a stranger. So I just turn around, walk away to the entrance and out. Two-Bit's not there yet so I sit down on the ground beside his car, trying to breathe and not to cry.

xXx

The whole ride home I sit quiet. I guess Two-Bit realize I'm not in the mood for talking, because he doesn't say anything either. When he pulls up in front of my house, I just mumble a "Bye" and leave him. He gets it, he doesn't follow me inside.

Soda's not home yet, but Darry still is. I confront him in his room without even take my coat off.

"Was it three people?"

He stops putting his clean shirts in his closet. "What?"

"In the accident! Three people?" I don't let him answer before I continue. "I can't believe you're hidin' things from me!" A thought about how unfair I am I quickly push away again. What I hide is different.

"I'm not hidin' anything. I thought you knew, Pony. It's not a secret."

"I didn't knew!" I'm shaking.

Darry puts his shirts on the bed, close the closet door and steps up to me. A firm hand on my arm leads me into the room, and he gently puts me down on the bedside beside his clothes. Then he sits down next to me.

"The police said it when they... the night they told us."

I have no memory of that. I wonder if I'm all messed up. If I really can rely on my memories at all anymore. The things I _can_ remember is maybe not true, and the things I _don't_ remember everyone else does.

"It's not strange if you don't remember, Pony," Darry says like he could read my mind. "We were all upset that evening."

"Does Soda know?"

"Everybody knows. And I really thought you-"

"Who was it?" My voice is hoarse.

"Hold on a second." Darry rise to open a drawer in the desk. He brings out a clipping. "Here."

I hold it in my hands. It's the article from the newspaper, about the accident. I have never read it before. They only got a small notice, no picture. But their names stands there. _Darrel and Anne Curtis. Matthew Gaines._ I don't recognize it.

"Who's Matthew Gaines?"

Darry takes the paper from me, holds it for a minute before he puts it back.

"I guess Dad knew him, or maybe he was a hitch hiker. The police thinks they maybe just wanted to give him a ride home, his house lies not even a mile from the... from were the accident happened. You know Dad. It wouldn't be the first time he helped someone."

I feel the beginning of a headache. "But it's strange, isn't it? They were out for dinner! Alone."

Darry sighs. He doesn't answer, but how could he? The only ones who can know, is dead.

xXx

_The car crash into the tree. I stand watching, see it split. I see Dad get crushed against the steering wheel. Mom's head smash the windscreen. Henry stands beside me, a hand on my shoulder. _

_"I told you," he says. "You could've stopped them, but you didn't."_

_"You killed them," I say to him. He laughs._

_The police are here. They take Dad out of the car, handcuffs him._

_"He's goin' to prison were he belongs," Henry whispers. "You want to know what they do in places like that? I'll show you."_

_"You have to hide from boogeyman," Soda says, and we crawl down, under the bushes, and I know he's looking for us. If he find me, he'll kill me._

* * *

_Thank you for reading this! I hope you're not bored yet... just a few more chapters I think.  
_


	13. The distant

**Darker**

**Chapter 13 - The distant  
**

It's snowing again. Big, heavy flakes that float through the air, landing on the still wet ground since yesterdays thaw. I sit in my bench, staring out through the window, fiddling with my pen. I feel awkwardly distant. Since the moment I left Steve's car and walked inside my school, it has felt like I'm not really here. I can't explain it. I feel older, like I don't belong with my peers anymore. They are young and happy and laughs, and I'm not sure how to do it anymore.

A paper lands in front of me, and I drag my gaze away from the weather outside, looking down. I didn't know we had a history test today. I feel a little pale when I scribble down my name, already knowing I will fail this. The first question make me curse at myself, but there is nothing I can do about it. My mind refuse to give me the knowledge about the civil war I know I have, it just keeps going back to the junkyard, my Dad's demolished car, their bodies in the snow, the article, Matthew Gaines. Especially Matthew Gaines. I don't think it's a coincidence he was in the car. His name won't leave me alone.

I guess I should be glad that I have a new thing to try to solve. That can keep me away from thinking about that dream. What Henry did. I shudder. My pen does a mark across the lines, and I reach for my rubber, erase it. I stare at the test, the first part.

_Between wich years did the Civil War took place, and name at least three causes to why it started._

I rub my temple. I should know this. I know I do, I did a report on it. I glance around in the room, and see all my classmates sitting hunched over their papers, writing. Why can't I? I sigh.

The hand that lands on my shoulder makes me jump.

"Are you all right, Ponyboy?"

I glance up at my teacher. "Yeah." I need to come up with something, to explain why I haven't even started. "Just a headache."

"Oh," she frowns concerned. "Do you need to see the nurse?"

"No, it's okay," I assure her and manage to smile. She smiles back and continues pacing along the rows, making sure no one cheats.

When the bell rings, I have at least written some words on every question, but I know they probably won't give me a higher grade than a C at best. It feels a bit odd. I have never got less than a B before, and the last years has all been straight A's.

I wish I could sneak out and smoke before I have to go to Mrs. Ellis, but with only five minutes to spare, I doubt it would be a great idea. So I drag my feet to her office, waiting outside on a plastic chair. I wonder if she's good at read people. I hope not.

"Hello, Ponyboy." She walks by with a coffee in her hand, keys in the other, and she unlocks the door, letting me in. "I'm sorry for this." She holds up her cup. "I've had a really busy day so I haven't had the time for a coffee since the early morning."

I want to tell her I can go if she's that busy, but I don't. Instead we sit down, and I feel her eyes upon me. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable.

"You don't look so well," she complains gentle. I decide to go on with my lie.

"It's just a headache."

"You have a headache?"

"Yeah."

"Does this happen a lot?"

"No." She keeps looking at me, and I'm getting nervous. "I don't sleep that well but it's fine, my brother already took me to see a doctor," I ramble. I don't really know why I'm telling her that, and I groan inwards.

"Why don't you sleep well?"

I shrug, trying to look casual, like it's no big deal. "I don't know."

She gives me a little smile. "Some of your teachers are a bit worried about you. They say that you don't pay attention in class and that your work are not as good as usual."

I don't know what she expects me to answer, so I just sit quiet. She knows why. At least one reason for it.

"They do understand, Ponyboy. But maybe if you talk about your feelings..?" I do a grimace, and she continues. "I know it maybe can sound ridiculous for a teenaged boy, but I can promise you it would help if you talked to me."

I wish I had taken the time and smoked that cigarette before. I could use the calm the nicotine gives me. I want out of this room. Talking _doesn't_ help, I know. Talking won't make my nightmares go away, I've already test that, talking won't answer my questions and it certainly won't bring my parents back. But no one understands that. No one understands what I want.

"I already have people to talk to," I avoid her. "I don't think I wanna come here anymore."

She looks disappointed, but I remember what she said the first time, that she can't force me to come here. I stand up. I feel dizzy, and the headache is not a lie anymore.

"Ponyboy, please sit down," she says, but I just shake my head at her and leave. Out in the corridor I start running, and I don't even care that the schoolday's not over, that I don't have my books or my backpack, I just want to go home.

xXx

I steal the clipping from Darry's drawer, sit in my room and read it over and over. There has to be an answer somewhere, I just need to find it.

xXx

The phone is ringing and I stand a few feet away, staring at it. I know it's school. I wonder what will happen now, how mad they will be, what Darry will say. I don't pick up.

xXx

I hear Soda and Steve and Two-Bit tumble through our door. The TV snaps on, and suddenly my brother stands on my treshold, looking in.

"Hey, Pone."

I look up from my book. "Hey." My gaze goes down again. I have read the same sentences, the same words, since I picked up the book almost half an hour ago. I can't concentrate. I expect him to go, but he doesn't, and I wait, still pretending to read. Another minute ticks by. He doesn't move, and I lower the book again.

"What?"

He looks so serious. "You do know I love you?" he asks, like he doubts it. I know it's my fault, and I feel miserable. I don't want him to think like that.

"Yeah."

"C'mon, Pone," he begs. "I don't want you to be mad at me."

I wish I could tell him that I'm not. Instead, I bite my lip, not meeting his gaze. I put my book aside, rubbing my temples.

"What's the matter?" He sounds worried, steps up beside me.

"Headache." It's getting worse. "Ouch." I close my eyes, feeling his hand on my hair.

"Want an aspirin?"

"Yeah."

He leaves and I lay down. A moment later he's back with the can and a glass of water. He helps me sit up and I pop the cap, taking four white pills, swallow them.

"It hurts," I whine, placing my head on the pillow, cover my eyes with my arm. Soda puts a hand on my forhead.

"I don't think you got any fever," he tells me. "Rest for a bit, okay?"

"Mmm." I feel him place the cover over me, then hear him walk out again. The sound from the living room quiets down, someone shuts off the TV, and I hear our friends leave the house. It came so sudden, it feels like my head is going to explode. I whimper when Soda comes back and shuts the blinds, turns off the lamp beside me. Then he sits down on the bedside, and when I finally fall asleep, I know he's still there.

xXx

I wake up by someone touching my shoulder, making me turn around and open my eyes. The headache is still there, but much better, just a slight memory of how it was before.

"What happened in school?" Darry asks me. I wonder why he doesn't shout at me for ditching. I can't read his expression. "If you don't feel well, you have to tell someone, Ponyboy. You can't just go," he says to me.

"I'm sorry." I sit up, waiting for him to get angry.

"So why did you?"

I swallow. I know I can't explain, then I will have to tell everything, and that's never gonna happen. "I... I don't know. I just..."

"You just..? Thought it was okay? I tell you it's not Ponyboy. Geez, you know the social services keep an eye on us. If they so much think that I'm not fit to be your guardian, you and Soda will be put in a boy's home within a second!" He sounds more scared than mad.

"I know." I can't look at him. "I'm... I had a headache."

This makes him sigh. We both sit quiet for a moment, and I feel the dull throbs in my head getting stronger again. "How's your head now?" he finally asks, somewhat changing the subject, this time in a more normal pitch.

"Better."

"Want some dinner?"

"No."

Darry always seems so strong. Always seems to know what to do. I can't even remember a time he made some bad decision. Not like I. I'm sure he would have told, and everyone had believed him. It wouldn't even have happened to him, I know he would have been smart, stopped it from the very beginning. He would never have let Henry say those things to him, he would never have let him do things like... _kiss_ him. I clamp a hand over my mouth.

"Pone?"

I feel so, so dizzy. I don't even notice my breathing comes out more rapid.

"Ponyboy!" He puts his hand on my shoulders, shakes me cautiously, and I look at him, like through a long, long tunnel, and my vision is blurry in the edges. His voice sounds distant, but I know it's me, it's me who's distant. I close my eyes and refuse to open them, even when Darry tells me to. I hear him call for Soda, and then he's here too, and I'm in his embrace, crying.

xXx

When I have calmed down, I follow them to the table anyway. The rest of the evening they both almost tip toes around me. I can't do my homework since I forgot everything in school, but Darry says nothing about it. Soda watch TV with me, even if I know he thinks it's boring. When it's finally time to go to bed, I'm just thankful, even if it probably means more dreams. I hate it when they treat me like that. I just want to feel normal again, feel like I'm here.

The night is long and dark. I fall asleep just to wake up again just moments after, and I shift, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Can't you sleep?"

I didn't realize Soda's awake too. "No," I admit.

"Pone?" he says, sounding a bit sad. "I know you think I don't believe you-"

"It's okay," I interrupt, even if it's not.

"No, wait," he says, propping himself up on an elbow. "It's just... hard to believe, ya dig?"

I don't answer to that. I don't think it's hard to believe, but I guess it's because it's my memories, my experiences. His is different.

"What I remember, he was just a normal guy. Dad liked him. If he had been that bad, you really think our parents should've invited him? Into our house?"

"Dad didn't knew everythin'," I say. I sniff without tears. I don't want to talk about this again, but I'm so tired of it, to be alone. So maybe I can just go with it. Try one more time. But if he doesn't believe me now, I don't know what I'll do. "He was in prison and he blamed Dad for it, but no one knows that."

Soda's quiet for a long time. Then he says, "Okay. So... you remember this stuff?"

I nod. "Yeah. I didn't before but I do now."

"But are you sure? I mean, completely? It really happened the way you dream it?"

"Yeah."

Soda shakes his head, but not at me, for himself. "I still don't get it," he says. "Why don't Darry and I remember then? We're older than you."

I'm starting to get upset. "You only think of me like I'm a little kid. But I'm not! I know a lots of things you don't!" I turn my back on him. Then something hits me and I turn around again, facing him. "Besides, don't you think it's a bit strange that a stranger was in the car when they died? What if he had somethin' to do with Henry?"

"Please Pone, calm down."

"I _am_ calm!" I throw myself on my back. "Geez!"

None of us says anything for a long, long moment. I'm starting to think that Soda's fallen asleep when I hear him clear his throat, then talks low.

"So, if we're sayin' that you're right, then. That, um, he said he... wanted Dad to die and everythin'... why now? Why not then?"

"What?" I think I'm too tired to get what he means.

"Why didn't he kill him then? If he's a killer. Why _now_?"

"I don't know."

"And if he did, the question's still how," Soda continues.

I don't answer him.

"You don't think it could be that he was just mad at Dad at one occasion or somethin' and like, said that and you heard him, but he didn't really meant it? People sometimes say things like that if they're mad enough. Steve says things about his dad, and you know how Dally can curse at people too."

What he says makes sense. It could be like that, couldn't it? That he was so angry and said stuff, and then Dad maybe noticed and kicked him out, because he did disappeared after a while and never showed up again. And the accident maybe just was an accident.

That doesn't explain Matthew Gaines. But that could be a coincidence. He was a friend. Or maybe hitch hiked. Dad picked him up because of the bad weather. He didn't want anyone to freeze to death if he could help them. That makes sense too.

And what Henry did to me... someone else did that to him before, right? _You know what they do in places like that?_ I know he got into big trouble in prison. I know someone, or some, did things to him too. Probably worse than he did to me.

Maybe I should feel sorry for him. But I can't. I still hate him. I can't believe it happened the way Soda says. And I remember a thing I've planned to do, that maybe can give some answers. It must.

"Remember what Darry said?" I ask Soda.

"About what?"

"About their friends in school? Bruce Graham's dad and someone named Mike. They knew Henry too. Maye they know somethin' we don't."

"You mean we should talk to them?"

"Yeah."

Soda grips my hand, squeeze it. "Okay," he says, and suddenly I don't feel so lonely anymore.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. I promise to reveal things soon...  
_

_Reviews are lovely!  
_


	14. The answers

**Darker**

**Chapter 14 - The answers  
**

_They are white. Three coffins in the back of the church, lids open. I can see their pale faces. Dad's. Mom's. I can see blood seeping through wounds. I can see cuts and scars.  
_

_The third coffin is empty. I step up to it, looking down._

_"It's for you, Ponyboy," Henry says. _

_I take a step back. "It's not for me. It's for Matthew Gaines."_

_He laughs. "Who's Matthew Gaines?" he asks me. "You've made him up."_

_"No."_

_"You've made everything up, Ponyboy."_

_"No."_

_"It's all in your head, Ponyboy."_

_I put my hands to my ears. "No!"_

_The coffin is not empty anymore. Soda lies in it, eyes shut. Henry stands above him, pointing at me._

_"You told him. I told you not to tell. Look what happened when you did."_

_I turn around. I try to run, but like the last time, I can't. I struggle. My feet sink down like I'm stuck in mud, my heart throbs so fast I think it might explode by the effort. I can't breathe. I can't scream._

_I can't move, and I know he's coming._

_"You thought I wouldn't come back, Ponyboy?"  
_

xXx

Soda is still asleep when I bounce up, trying to catch my breath. In the next moment, I lean down over him to check if he's breathing, and he is. He's not dead. I want to bawl so badly, but I don't. I don't want to wake him up.

I'm thankful I didn't scream this time. Even if I want Soda's comfort, really want his comfort, I'm still not sure what to think. I'm not sure if he believed me or just wanted to when we spoke some hours ago. He never really said he did. But at least he listened, I try to convince myself, and I guess that has to be enough for now. And this nightmare can't be true. It just can't. He's not after Soda. That wasn't a memory.

I carefully crawl out of bed to go to the bathroom, and when I'm finished, I quietly dress myself in my jeans and Soda's old sweater.

Our house is bated and dim, and the feeling it gives is almost scary before I switch the button to the kitchen lamp in the ceiling. When the room suddenly bathes in light, a memory forms in my mind, a memory of us all, sitting at the table eating a cake. It must've been a birthday. I think it's mine. I shake my head, trying to get the images clearer, but they are slippery.

Since I'm up early, I have the time to make breakfast to my brothers for once. I pick out eggs from the fridge, chocolate milk and orange juice, fills water and coffee in the percolator. I know Darry wants it strong, so I add an extra spoon of the dark brown powder. I frown. I remember the smell of coffee and the blue painted whipped cream on the cake. There were four candles too. I remember Soda had to help me blow them out, sitting next to me, eagerly nagging at me to do it so we could eat, and I blew but I couldn't put the flames out. So he had to do it with me.

I remember presents, but not what was in them.

I put butter in the frying pan, take the spatula from the drawer, crack some eggs.

Dad was upset that day, trying not to show it. I know he was even if he smiled and laughed and sang for me, like anyone else.

I sit down in a chair, my head in my hands. Why was he upset? I heard him talk to Mom in the morning, when I snuck into their room after waking up too early, butterflies in my stomach of excitement. They silenced when they discovered me, standing on the rug, my hand gripped around a corner of their cover. And they smiled then, but I knew something was wrong. The cake and the presents made me forget it. I think it was a nice birthday. And it was nice because... because Henry wasn't there. He should've been, along with other friends that showed. I don't know why I know this, but I do. He should come, but he didn't, and for some reason back then, I just knew he never would show up again.

Never until now.

I think that was what my parents talked about, in their bedroom that morning, why he wouldn't come back. But I can't remember why, what they said. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts I never notice the smell from the stove.

"Pony!" Darry is suddenly in the kitchen, dragging the pan off from the hotplate. He shows me the burnt eggs, still smouldering, almost black.

I blush. "Oh. Um, sorry, Dar. I didn't notice," I say, unnecessarily.

Darry sighs, annoyed with me, I can tell. "Please don't put our house on fire, Pone. We can't afford a new one."

xXx

Darry sends me to wake up Soda, but I think he just wants me out from the kitchen to fix it up. It's ten more minutes before my brother has to go up to make it on time, but I shake his shoulder anyway.

"Soda?"

"Hm?" He turns around, opens his eyes. "Mornin', Pone."

I feel the urge to ask, jittery, "Can we go today?"

"Um, what?" He sits up, rubs his eyes. "Go where?"

"Graham's. We talked about it tonight," I add fast, a bit insecure. What if he has forgot? He doesn't give me one of his beaming smiles, and I know what he will say before he says it.

"Can't we some other day? Like tomorrow maybe? I have some plans with Steve and the girls. That's okay with you?"

I don't know what to say. He never said when we should go, but I'm still disappointed.

"C'mon, Pone," he yawns. "I promise I go with ya tomorrow."

I look down. "Okay."

He disappears out in the hallway and I hear the shower being turned on. I sink down in the chair by the desk. I'm still just stupid. I don't really know what I'm gonna ask Bruce's dad anyway. What if he doesn't know anything? Why would he? They were friends, but that doesn't mean he knows everything that happened between Henry and Dad then, or over ten years later when I was little, or anything at all about my parent's crash some weeks ago.

But I realize he's my only option. Who else can I talk to? Maybe some of the old teachers at Will Rogers, but I don't even know them. And they may only be able to tell about when they were young and went to school, not what happened afterwards.

Sometimes I think I just should drop this, but I can't. Not if he's still out there. Not if he has something to do with the accident. I need to know. I need my nightmares to stop, I'm so sick of them. I don't want to feel the urge to look over my shoulder every time I step outside or door. I don't want to be scared. And I want justice to Mom and Dad.

"Breakfast!" Darry shouts from the kitchen, and Soda barges into the room again.

"Where's my jeans?"

xXx

"So this thing tomorrow, Pone..." Soda suddenly says after Darry has left. I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

"What about it?" I eye him, nervously of what he's about to say. He makes a grimace.

"You really think it's a good idea?" He picks at the cheese on the sandwich in his hand. "I mean, what do ya want to talk about?"

I look down on the tabletop. I knew it. He doesn't see this necessary. He really doesn't understand at all. "You promised!" I mumble, putting down my glass of juice.

"Yeah, I know," he says. There's no regret in his voice at least. "And I will go with ya, Pone. It's not that."

I manage to say, "Maybe he's the only one that can know if... if Henry really..."

"Did somethin' to Mom and Dad?" Soda fills in. He still play with his food, long, slender fingers breaks off small pieces of bread, leaving crumbles on the table. I shudder. I'm so scared of being right. What if I'm right? What will happen then? How are we gonna prove it? Were can we go from there? We will never get our parents back anyway, whatever happens, which answers I will get on my questions. Still, I have to do this. I don't understand the pattern. It feels like I have a lot of clues, but they don't match, I can't put them together. I _need_ to put them together. I have to know what's real and what's not to be able to move on. Know what Henry really did, and how to fit in Matthew Gaines-

"Pone?" Soda says. I look up at him, meet his gaze. "You all right?"

"You knew about Matthew Gaines," I blurt out to him. He looks taken aback by my outburst, but then he collect himself, dumping what's left of the sandwich on the table.

"Didn't you?" he asks. I shake my head. "Oh," he says next, biting his lip.

"Don't you think it's strange?"

He shrugs, but I can tell he does. Then he speaks slowly. "Ya know, me and Darry talked about it and... I guess they all just had bad luck."

I suddenly feel cold. "It wasn't bad luck."

"Okay," Soda says. "That guy had bad luck then, I mean, riding in Dad's car just that moment if..." he doesn't continue, but he doesn't have to. He means if I'm right. He still doubts it, even if he tries not to show it. But I drop it for now. I wish I could doubt it too.

"But what did he do in the car in the first place?" I persist. "Darry was like it happened all the _time_ that Dad picked up people and drove them home..."

"It happened," Soda says. "You know it did."

"But not when he went out with Mom!" I exclaim. "You know that, and Darry does too!"

Soda sighs. "What do ya want me to say, Pone? We don't know what he did in the car, okay?"

I fold my arms. "You don't even seem to care. You or Darry."

"Of course we care, Pone. But what can we do about it? He was just a common guy. Worked at Tillman's Industries since November. Dad's age. Unmarried. Don't ya think Darry tried to figure it out?"

"No," I say sulky, but I know Soda's right.

"C'mon," he says. "If it had been... important, we would have known."

"How? How would we have known?" I can't help but being angry. I don't know why they take things so easily.

But I guess that's because for them, it was just an accident. For them, nothing's unusual more than the absence of our parents. They don't have any nightmares. They don't have any bad memories of Henry. They don't know what he did, and Soda... god, Soda just say things he knows I want to hear. I know he doesn't mean anything bad, he's just over protective. He doesn't realize that if he really wants to protect me, he would have listen. He would have believed my words, and he would have worked so hard to find out the truth about Henry. Because I know he's still out there.

xXx

I don't like to walk into school today, sure of that I will have to explain myself to my teachers, but no one says anything about how I ran away, or my absence yesterday. James gives me an odd look, but I ignore him, trying to work for once. In fact, I ignore him all day. I'm so sick of people. So when it's lunch break, I hide behind one of the trees in the outskirt of the school yard, trying to avoid everyone. I kick on a small rock when a car suddenly stops beside me. Startled I look up, scared of seeing Henry's face, but it's not. It's Curly, hanging out through one of the windows.

"Curtis!" He waves at me to come, and I do. "Jump in," he tells me. I hesitate for a moment. Break's almost over, and I just can't ditch one more day. I got away once, but I don't think Darry will tolerate it twice, but then I recognize the person next to the driver.

I remember Soda told me about his dad being like Johnny's, but Bruce doesn't remind me of Johnny at all. He's tall and blonde, without that look in his eyes that Johnny has, tough but vulnerable. Bruce's eyes are just hard, and the stick he has behind his ear is not a regular cigarette. I close my eyes for a second, knowing Darry will kill me for this, but then I find myself in the backseat, shuddering over the words I just thought. _Kill me_. That's why I'm doing this. So Henry won't kill me. I have to take care of Darry's punishment later, for ditching and riding in a car with an obvious underaged driver. But I hope Darry'll never know that at least.

"You had somethin' you wanted to talk 'bout with my pa?" Bruce says, turned in his seat.

I nod, unable to speak. I look at Curly beside me, who gives me a grin.

"Remembered when I saw you," he says. Then, "You never came by."

I don't tell him that I did. I just shrug, trying to look like it's not important.

The school is far behind by now, and I know classes started five minutes ago. I'm nervous. Bruce turns toward me again, riding almost backwards. "So... what's the deal?"

"Um," I say, not knowing how to continue. "He... your pa was friend with mine once," I finally say.

"They were?"

The driver turns around a corner. Curly leans forward, hits Bruce's arm, whisper something. "Right," Bruce says. "He died, huh?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Sorry, man," he says. "Not that I don't wish my fuckin' pa could, ya know, kick the bucket too."

I don't answer to that, but I give him a weak smile. What can I say? If he is used to take beatings, I guess I understand.

The driver hits the brakes outside a bar I know Dally use to hang out in. I think Two-Bit sometimes shows up here too, and I hesitate when I get out on the curb.

"I, uh, I can't go in there," I blush.

Bruce raise his eyebrows, looking sceptical, while Curly grips my wrist.

"'Course you can," he assures. "Bruce knows the fuckin' owner. Don'tcha?"

"It's not like I'm gonna give you booze or anythin'," Bruce says. "Dad's here." And by that, he open up the door and disappears. Curly watch me with narrowed eyes.

"You wanna do this or not?"

So I nod, follow him inside. It's smoky and smelly, but not crowded this time of day. I hope that nobody who knows my brothers will see me in here and tell them. Someone grabs my jacket sleeve, and for a second, I panic, thinking it's Henry, but Bruce's voice takes me out of it.

"C'mon then," he says. "The ol' man's over there." He drags me along, push me down in a booth in front of a man with a high red face and big hands gripping a glass of beer. I see a change in Bruce, suddenly he seems more shrinked back than before, more alert and vigilant. For a brief moment I see Johnny in him. But then he changes back, straighten himself up.

"Pa?" he says. "This is Ponyboy Curtis."

His dad, I think his first name is Anthony, watch me over, smirking. "Darrel's youngest, huh?"

I nearly start chewing on my nails, but don't, that would seem childish, instead I nod awkwardly, wondering why I do this now, without Soda. I should've waited. Bruce and Curly disappears, but when I look around, I catch a glimpse of them by the pool table.

Mr. Graham taps his glass with his fingers. I turn my face forward again, knowing I have to say something.

"I...uh... You knew my dad," I start low, and he leans forward, blinking.

"What?"

I repeat what I just said, a little louder, and he nods. "I did. He was a good man. Was at the funeral too."

I guess I just have to throw myself into it. I'm not here to do small talk. "You knew a guy named Henry too."

He raise his eyebrows at this. "Sure did," he says.

"How's he like?"

Mr. Graham's eyes narrows. "I guess you're here because of him, am I right, kid?"

I look at my hands, not really understand how he can know. "I... I have these memories 'bout him... goin' to jail?"

He snorts. "He was stupid. Think we all were, but me and your pa was a bit smarter. We made all those plans, but I thought it was more talk than action, ya know. We were just young an' reckless."

"Plans?"

He leans forward again, whispering loudly to be heard over the music. "Robbery."

I think he notice my shocked reaction, because he starts laughing. "Yeah, your pa wasn't always a good man, Ponyboy. Lucky him he met your Ma, or he would've been with Henry that day. The fucker went through the plan alone and got caught. Your pa told'em before not to do it, but you think he would listen?"

I don't believe him. I don't. I clench my hands under the table, wanting to shout at him to not talk about my dad that way. He would_ never_ do things like that! But I remember one of my dreams, a memory, Mom and Dad talking, their voices echoes in my mind, demanding my attention.

_"Maybe he's changed," Dad says. "I'm sorry he made you cry."_

_"He didn't," Mom answers. "You did."_

_"I changed," Dad says._

I swallow. Dad could've meant anything with that... even if I somehow know Mr. Graham doesn't lie. I just wish he hadn't said it, I don't want to know this things about Dad. But he was young. Everyone can make mistakes when they're young, right, and he never went through with it. He couldn't have. He changed but Henry didn't.

"Henry hated him," I whisper.

"I know. Blamed him for everythin'."

My head jerks up. It feels like a slap. Even if I knew this, I haven't had it confirmed by anyone else.

"He came out of prison and was a whining little fucker. I was in there too but for other reasons at the time, but he could sure whine. Damn, sometimes I felt just to put him out of his misery, ya know. He wasn't though enough. Did another turn in though, a couple of years later. Came out again just a few months ago."

My thoughts are spinning. "When, uh, when did he get out the first time?"

"You sure have questions, kid. Lemme think." He gulps half of his beer. "1954 I believe. I still had two damn years to go by then."

My heart starts to beat faster when I do the math. It fits. He came out when I was two, showed up in our family in the beginning of the summer I should turn four, and then disappeared, out of our lives in the end of it- to prison again- and got out a few months ago, able to... able to kill them. Oh god, it really fits. I feel how I start shaking.

"Where... where's he now?"

He watch me closely. "Ya scared, kid?"

I shake my head, but I know he can tell, because he laughs at me again. "Stupid boy. You know he's dead."

The world stops. "_What_?"

I feel myself go pale. Dead? He's _dead_? He can't be. I mean, can he? I can just stare at the man in front of me, while my mind slowly accept the information. At first, I only feel relieved. He's _dead_. He can't do anything to me. He can't have done anything to my parents either then... but somehow I just know what Mr. Graham will say next, and the puzzle in my head starts to form. I don't like the picture it shows. I hate it. I don't want to believe it.

"Sure you knew. Isn't that why you want to talk about him? 'Cause he was in the fuckin' car with your parents?"

I feel nauseous. I really do. The world starts spinning again, faster and faster, and I hear myself say, almost whining, "But - but his name was _Matthew Gaines_."

"Yeah." Mr. Graham grips his glass again. "He changed it."

* * *

_Sorry, long chapter. I didn't wanted to rush it or cut it, I hope you don't mind. And of course, I really hope you like it (I'm nervous again)!_

_Thank you so, so much for all reviews! Next chapter will be a bit longer too.  
_


	15. The cemetery

**Darker**

**Chapter 15 - The cemetery**

I don't know how I got out from there. I was in a booth in a smoky bar, and the next thing I know, I stand in the alley between two houses, puking into the gutter with my hand against the cold brick wall for support. I was right. I was right and I can't handle it. He really did hate Dad. He really had something to do with the accident, why else would he be in the car?

It's one thing to suspect, a whole different thing to discover that what you suspect is true. I close my eyes, hard. I don't know what to _do_.

I have to find Soda. Soda will help me fix this. He will know.

I wipe my mouth with my sleeve while I straighten up. I have to find him. I stumble out onto the street before I start running, on sidewalks and around corners, I slip on ice and falls, feeling pain in my left wrist. I swear under my breath when I struggle to get up on my feet, continue running, until I slip once more, but this time someone grabs my arm before I fall again.

"Jesus, kid!" The person the voice belongs to jerks me up roughly, and I lift my head, panting. "Where the hell's the fire?"

I stare at the familiar face and the brown haired hood beside him. Dally shakes my arm, getting my attention. "Ponyboy?"

"It's-" I stop, trying not to show that I'm crying. I just notice I do, and I blush hard. I see the smirk in the other boy's face before I put my other hand up to cover my eyes, but Dally turns his head toward him.

"Get lost," he says. "I gotta take care of this. Talk to ya later."

"Whatever, Dal." He's still smirking when he walks past me, and I think I recognize him as one of the Brumly boys. I turn my gaze away.

Even when he's gone, I still feel embarassed. I don't want to cry, not in front of anyone, and especially not Dallas. He never cries. No one does. Not even Johnny while being beaten black and blue by his dad. I've seen it happen, and he didn't made a sound.

"Lemme go," I mumble, staring down at the asphalt, trying to take my arm out of Dally's firm grip.

"I'm gonna take ya home, kid," he tells me. I shake my head, fiercely.

"No! No, I... I just need to get to Soda."

He doesn't listen, just starts to drag me along. I have to trot to keep up with his long steps since he still holds me.

"Dally..." I whine after a while, and then he stops, turns.

"Does Darry know you ain't in school?" His face is close to mine, and I try to jerk my head back. I stare at him and he smirks. "Didn't think so."

"I don't wanna go back there," I say, and he sighs at me.

"I said I'm gonna take ya home didn't I?" He finally lets go of my arm, digs into his pocket before he press something in my hand. It's a pack of cigarettes. I don't think I've ever been so thankful for a smoke before. Eagerly I take one out, letting Dally light it for me. While the nicotine makes its wonders in my lungs he studies me with an unreadable expression. My hand shakes a bit and of course he notice. But at least I feel calmer. As calm as I can be after what Mr. Graham told me.

I know the truth now. Henry killed them, and in the same time, himself too.

It must've been what happened that evening. And even if I'm glad, actually really _happy_ that the bastard is dead, that I can spit on his grave if I want to, I'm strangely disappointed at the same time. It's a war of feelings inside me. Since he's dead, he can't hurt me anymore, but he can't be punished either, can't tell us _why_, and right now, when my heart's speed is somewhat normal again and my breaths comes out steady with the smoke, I wish I never had found out the truth. Because it hurts. Really, really hurts. Even if I did knew before, there still was a chance I was wrong. It's not anymore.

And I wonder how I will be able to tell my brothers.

Dally's icy eyes stares up at the gray sky for a moment, before he nods at me to follow him. I do. I realize I don't know where we are anymore, these streets are unknown to me. And I just want to get away from here.

We walk in silence until we are on familiar ground again. I can see the DX-sign in the distant and know we're close to home.

xXx

"You don't have to stay," I say to Dally when we have stepped inside. He just snorts at me and throws himself down in the couch. I sit down in the other end, examine my wrist. I have a big bruise, but otherwise, it seems fine. I bend my hand back and forth for a while, and it can be done without too much pain.

"So what happened?" Dally place his feet on the coffee table, leaning back with his hands behind his neck. He smirks at me.

I look away, look down. "Nothin'."

I hear him chuckle low. "Yeah, right," he says. "You just felt like runnin' down the street like a madman."

"I run track," I avoid, hearing myself how silly it sounds. "I need practice."

He doesn't answer to that, it's meaningless I guess, it's too obvious I'm lying. Dally picks out his pack again, sticks a cigarette in his mouth. While he smoke, he watch me so closely I get nervous.

"Never though I would see you in that part of town," he finally says, casual. "Not to mention clever li'l Ponyboy Curtis ditchin'." He push at my shoulder with his knuckles.

"Stop that." I grimace. "I ain't ditchin'."

Not on purpose anyway. But even if he tease me, I'm happy he's here. It doesn't leave me too much time to think. And I don't want to think right now. When I do, I just think of my parents last minutes. If they knew. If they were scared.

I still wonder how he did it. Gripped the steering wheel maybe. Did something to Dad, like punched him so he lost control of the car. I blink hard, trying to force the tears away.

"Damn, kid!" Dally sighs, and I rush up, out into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. It doesn't feel better.

xXx

After school, Johnny comes by. Dally's still here, for a reason only he knows. But I can see him watch me now and then, his face clouded. One time during the day, when I go out into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he corners me.

"Whatever it fuckin' is," he says to me, "don't do anythin' stupid, Ponyboy."

"I ain't doin' anythin' stupid," I try to snort. I already have, but he doesn't know that. Or maybe he does. Maybe that's why he's here.

"Like hell you don't." He takes the glass from me. "You're up to somethin'."

"I'm not." I want to ask him why he cares. Dallas Winston never does. But I don't. I just stand there, awkward, until he moves out of my way with a curse, realizing I won't tell him, and then I sit down next to Johnny in the living room, listening to the radio. It's some crime story, and Johnny seems stuck into it, but I reach out to switch the channel anyway. I have enough in my own life to listen to some murder fiction. We sit on the floor, and I drag my knees up to my chest, leaning my cheek against them and listen to Elvis instead.

Johnny looks at me, then up to Dally who stands in the doorway to the kitchen, then me again. His big eyes are so understanding. I haven't told him anything, the only one who knows a little is Soda, and I regret it. I should have told Johnny. So when Dally finally decides he's better off someplace else, I do. I tell him everything, my voice strained, my throat raspy, and he listens. I tell him about my nightmares, my suspicions, what Bruce's dad told me. I tell him about the park, and I hide my face as I do. I'm so ashamed of it.

He sits quiet, a hand on my shoulder, and when I'm done, I'm totally drained. I cried all the time too. What a tough greaser I am. I hardly dare to meet his eyes, but I do it anyway.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. I know he believes me. I see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. That is all I need right now.

xXx

When it's time for Soda to come home, I can hardly sit still.

"I can't tell him," I say to Johnny. "He'll... he'll... what if he still doesn't believe me? What if he won't listen?"

"He will," Johnny assures. "Soda understands everythin'."

I recognize my own words in the sentence. I used to say that. But I don't know anymore.

In the end, it's not Soda who comes home first. It's Darry, and he jerks the door open when stepping inside. I can see in his face he's furious. I bite my lip, trying to get smaller where I sit on the couch. I'm happy Johnny is here, that means Dar will take it easy. I hope. He stands on the other side of the coffee table, glares at me with cold eyes.

"School called my work," he says. I dip my head. "Jesus, Ponyboy!" he shouts. "It's two times now! Second day in a row!"

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I don't look up at him.

"You're sorry? You think that helps when Mrs. Garcia comes to pick you up, huh?"

He scares me. "She... she won't," I say with a small voice. Darry's big hand hits the table, making both me and Johnny jump. Darry looks at him like he just saw him.

"Johnny, if you don't mind, can you go home?" It's not a question.

I stare at Darry, wide eyed. It has never happened before he has told anyone in the gang to leave. Johnny looks condoning at me, then slowly makes his way to the front door.

"Bye," he says, and then he's gone. I swallow, looking at my brother.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Ponyboy? Not only you're ditchin' classes, your principal told me your grades are goin' down too."

"It's.. I can't concentrate," I say to him. "It's hard!"

"Don't you think I know that, Ponyboy? I have to skip college! I have to work two jobs and the money's still not enough! The least you can do is try!"

I fly up to my feet. "I am! I am tryin'!" I feel the stupid tears again. "But you - you just don't understand!"

"That's right!" Darry yells. "I don't understand why you act this childish. We all lost them, Ponyboy. That doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. What did you do today, huh? Hung around town with your friends? What? School's not important to you anymore?"

"No! I mean, yeah. It's not that. Dar, I - there's somethin'..." I don't know how to say it. I don't know if I can say it when he's so angry at me. But I have to explain.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Pony. I told you you would be grounded, and you are. The only thing you're allowed to do is go to school, and do your homework until I say different!"

"Fine!" I snap. "Don't listen to me. You never do anyway!" And I run to my room, banging the door behind me.

I need Soda. I want Soda. But then I remember, he should meet with Steve and Sandy and Evie today. He won't be home until late. Darry is not nearly as strict to him that he is to me. It's so unfair. I hate him.

No. I hate Henry. I can't hate my brother. I don't. Stupid, stupid tears.

xXx

I stay in my room the whole evening. Sometimes I hear Darry walk by, hesitating outside my room, and then I hold my breath, waiting for him to barge in and continue to yell at me, but he never does. When Soda finally comes home, I want to talk to him, but he doesn't come. Instead, I hear his and Darry's hushed voices in the living room when I open my door a crack. I don't want to see Darry right now, so I wait until I hear someone coming down the hall. I hide in my room then, but it's Soda. He steps inside, drags me to sit down on the bed with him.

"What did ya do today?" he asks me, and I blush. I know he knows. "I told you I should go with you," he says disappointed, and I hear supressed anger too. I don't want him to be angry at me. A lump forms in my throat, and he notice, because the next moment, his face softens. "Aw, Pone. I'm just worried." His arm loops around my shoulders. But I start sobbing anyway. It seems like I always will be a bawl baby.

"You...did ya say anythin' to Darry?"

"No. Listen, Pone. He's sorry he yelled at you. Okay? He's just worried about you." He leans his head against mine. "Don't cry."

"It's not because of that." I wipe my eyes. "He said somethin'."

"Darry?"

"Bruce's dad." I sniff. I will tell him, and I will do it now. "It was Henry who was in the car. He... he had changed his name. He told me he changed his name to Matthew Gaines."

Soda doesn't say anything, but I can feel how he stiffens.

"He's dead," I suddenly laughs out, but it's not a happy laughter. More despair. "He... he, I don't know Soda."

"God," Soda says. He lets go of me, puts his elbows at his knees and leans his head in his hands. He sits so for a long moment.

"You believe me?" I mumble when I can't stand his silence anymore. It's so unlike him.

"You don't tell me everythin'," comes his respond. "I do believe you, Pone. It's just... I can't do anythin' if you don't tell me!" He suddenly looks at me, and I'm shocked by his red rimmed eyes. I never realized he was crying too.

I move up to sit leaning against the wall, picks up my pillow and puts it in my lap. Soda moves too so he sits next to me, close. And just like I did with Johnny, I start talking. This time, it's easier. I've already used the same words earlier today. But I leave out one thing.

I leave out what really happened in the park. I can't tell him that. I just can't. It's enough to see his reactions when I tell him about the threats. When I'm done, he's trembling.

"Why didn't you tell me before, Pone?" he says quietly. "Damnit." He closes his eyes.

I don't really know. Many reasons. "I guess - I guess I was scared," I admit. "And... and... I wasn't sure... if it was true or just dreams, ya know. I didn't tell you because..." I look down. "I don't know why."

"You tried and I didn't listen," Soda adds. I can see how he clench his fists. Then he says, "You have to tell Darry too."

"He won't believe me," I say, but Soda's eyes almost shoots daggers. I doubt it's me he's angry at, though.

"If he wasn't dead already I would kill him myself," he confess, and then he calls for Darry anyway, despite my protests.

xXx

It's been over two weeks since the truth was revealed now, and I don't know, but it seems like we all slowly has start to accept that we can't do anything about what happened. We have to live with unanswered questions, with the fact that we don't really know what happened the night our parents died. Darry said one day that it could be an accident anyway, that my dreams and memories and the words from Mr. Graham doesn't can make us _sure _Henry really killed them, and I guess he's right. And in a way it doesn't really matter since he's dead too. We can't report him to the police and we can't send him to prison.

I know Darry went to Mr. Graham and talked to him too, even if he never told me what they spoke about. I think he told Soda, but my oldest brother seems to think I'm still too young to know everything, despite what I have went through in the past. He's still unfair. He's on me about school and he force me to study several hours afterwards to keep my grades up, and go and talk to Mrs. Ellis even if I don't want to. I think he has told her things too, but she never mention them. It's just a feeling I have.

Only Johnny knows the worst thing, about the park and what Henry did... and I made him swear to never tell anyone. I think I can handle it myself. I hope. I know Johnny thinks I should tell Soda, but I can't see the point in that. He would only freak out, and then he would go and do something stupid since he can't do anything to a dead guy.

I hit the stop-button and the bus I'm riding slows down and pulls in to the curb. I jump off and walk down the street and through the gates. When I walk along the gravel walk I think of my nightmares. I think we all thought they would stop soon, but they still haunts me every night. The only difference is that I don't remember them all the time anymore. Sometimes I do, and they all are about Henry, or my parents death's, or both, but sometimes they just make me wake up screaming and sweaty and are all blurry. Maybe it's my mind trying to protect me, I don't know. I guess I just should be thankful I don't remember them.

I stop and sink down to my heels. I reach out to touch the stone, to let my finger trail along their names. "Hi, Mom. Hi Dad."

I start coming here the day after I told my brothers everything. The first times Soda came with me, but I prefer to come alone. I want to say to them how sorry I am for never warned them about Henry. Maybe they knew about him, the true him, but I will never know if they did.

I stay with them for a while, but today I have another mission too. I stand up and walk slowly, reading the headstones. It takes a while, and I'm happy for it. I would be devastated if I found out he was buried close to them.

I find it.

I read his name, the wrong name. It says Matthew Gaines, but his real name was Henry Morgan. I know that now.

I feel nothing. I had thought I would hate, spit, kick the stone, throw a tantrum, but I don't do anything. I just feel empty. I don't even say anything to him when I turn around to go. He's not worth it.

I almost bump into someone, and I look up and freeze. The man in front of me wears blue jeans and a brown leather jacket, and his face, the blue eyes, the thin lips, the beard, makes me shudder. I recognize it. It's older and different, but I know it. But it can't be him. It can't be. He's dead. He's _buried_. He was in the wreck! Bewildered I take a step backwards, terrified, and I put up my hands to protect myself from whatever he will do to me, oh god, he has come back to_ kill_ me, and I'm about to scream when he opens his mouth, and he says,

"Hey, boy? Why do you visit my brother?"

* * *

_Only one chapter left now... I'm going away for a few days but if everything goes as planned, I will update on Wednesday. Thank you for reading/reviewing this! Makes me so, so, so happy!  
_


	16. The brother

_Final chapter. Long. A/N in the end. _

**Darker**

**Chapter 16 - The brother**

I stare at him, and he stares back, unfriendly, suspiciously. He seems stiff, asking me again why I'm standing here, and he sounds mad about it.

"Uh," I say, and that's all I can manage. His brother? Henry had a _brother_?

I can't take my eyes from his face. I can see the similarity to the man in my nightmares.

"You're dumb or somethin'?" he snorts. His voice has lost most of the edgy touch this time, and he suddenly seems more relaxed when he brush past me and sinks down on his knees in front of the grave.

He glance over his shoulder, meeting my gaze with those eyes. I shudder. He frowns as he studies me, up and down. I know I should go, but it's like my feet are stuck here. I can't move, how uncomfortable I yet feel when he takes in my appearence.

"What's your name?" he suddenly asks me, and I jerk at the sudden sound. My name?

I hesitate. He will know who I am if I tell him, there's no way he won't recognize my last name. He must know the name of the people in the car his brother rode in when it crashed. I shouldn't tell him. I should walk away from here and forget about him. I have start to move on. I have made progress since I told my brothers, progress to a normal life. We have start to try to leave it behind us, what we know and don't, and what we can't change. But another thought flies through my head as I stand here, a thought of a possibility getting some _answers_ we never thought we could get, and then I quickly make my decision. Darry would scold me for it, I know, but he's not here.

"I'm - I'm Ponyboy." And then I add, "Curtis." I watch him, unsure.

The reaction to my name is obvious. It flies over his face- recognition, anger, sorrow, even hate, in a mix, but then he seems to collect himself, and he looks away. "Curtis," he repeats. Then he snorts, "I ain't gonna say I'm sorry."

It almost feels like a punch. He acts like it's my parents' fault his brother is dead, when it actually was _him_ all along, Henry who did this, to them and himself. But then I get angry.

"Me neither," I tell him, with emphasis. I know there's venom in my voice. I want him to know that I hate his brother. I realize it may be stupid of me. The cemetery is empty of people, just him and me here, and if he is like his brother, I can be in trouble. He's much bigger than me. Even if I run, I'm sure he can catch up. But he doesn't move. He doesn't do anything else than sit there, his back turned against me. I don't know if I should say something more. I open my mouth a couple of times, but I don't know what to say. So instead, I slowly start to walk away from there.

Before the place comes out of my sight, I turn my head. He's standing up now, watching me go.

xXx

I drop my backpack on the floor, and when I walk into the kitchen, I see to my surprise that Soda is home, sitting by the table. The table top is covered with papers and open envelopes in front of him. He looks tired.

"What's that?" I pick up one of the papers. It's a water bill. "What are you doin'?"

"I'm just lookin'," he says, but I can tell he's avoiding me somehow. And Soda would never look at bills, he has never cared about our economy in the past. He takes the bill from me, put it with the rest all together in a stack, then throws them in one of the drawers under the kitchen counter. He close it, looking guilty.

"Why?"

"No reason." He scratch his nose. " You've been at the cemetery?" he asks me. I let him change the subject, not sure I really want to know why he suddenly act this way.

"Yeah."

He eyes me with concern, like he always do nowadays. "You okay?"

I nod, avoiding his gaze.

"What's up, Pone?" He can always tell when something's wrong.

"It's... it's nothin' I guess." I bite my lip. But I know I shouldn't have secrets anymore. I know what secrets can do. So I look up at him. "I met someone."

Soda leans his back against the counter. His face suddenly hardens, like he already knows what I'm gonna say, but I think he just heard in my voice it probably won't be any good news. "Who?"

"Um," I start, "he- he wasn't... I mean, he didn't seem dangerous or anythin' but he was his brother." I stumble over the words. "He said he was his brother."

"Who's brother?"

"Henry's."

xXx

"You ain't allowed to go there by yourself anymore, Ponyboy."

"Yeah, but Darry-"

"No, Pone!"

I sigh, staring at the pen in my hand. I'm writing on an essay, or should be doing, but it's kind of hard. I haven't come up with anything, and now Darry sits beside me in the couch, all worked up about the guy at the cemetery. Soda stands in front of us, his arms folded. I know I can't beat their arguments, but that's okay. I'm quite sure I don't want to meet the man again anyway.

"I won't," I promise them.

"I'm gonna look up this guy," Darry says. "What was his name?"

"He never said it. It's not like I talked to him."

Darry sighs and rubs his eyes. "Don't go near him. Not until we know more."

"Don't worry."

He rise and walks into the kitchen. Soda throws a glance at me, then hurries after.

"Dar, can I talk to you?"

I have a bad feeling in my stomach, but I try to ignore it. They talk too low for me to hear, and I can just hope it's not about me.

xXx

Soda drops the bomb two days later. It's Saturday. I don't have any homework, but I do have an English test on Tuesday, and since I'm still a bit behind in school, I sit in my bed with my textbook in my lap, writing down small notes on a piece of paper. My brother doesn't knock, just open up the door and hesitates for a moment. I look up, watch him take a step inside and carefully close the door behind him again.

"Can I talk to ya?"

"Sure."

He doesn't sit down. He looks nervous. "You're gonna be upset," he tells me. "I... uh..."

I force my gaze away from him, stare at my notes instead. Suddenly I know what he's gonna say. How the bills on the table fits in, why he looked so tired. Why he hang out at the DX so much. I know what he's thinking of.

"Don't drop out!" I hear myself say. "Please, Soda!" The next moment he sits next to me.

"Pone," he says, pleading. "C'mon." Then he says," I'm sorry, okay? It ain't just about school. The other day when you got home from the cemetery, remember?" He awaits for me to nod, so I do. "I did some counting. Yeah, I know I'm bad at math." He makes a grimace. But then he continues, "We can't afford the bills, Pone. You know how much Darry's workin', and I think he's plannin' to start to work on Sundays too."

I don't say anything.

"And that still wouldn't be enough. Besides, how long do you think he would be able to work seven days a week without gettin' sick? I have to help him."

I swallow. "You can work part time like Steve." My voice is almost failing me. I close my textbook. "It doesn't mean you have to drop out. Steve goes to school too."

"Pone," Soda says and I know he already has decided. I throw the book off my lap and rise.

"I'm goin' for a walk," I snap.

xXx

I'm so mad at him. I can't believe he's doing this now. I really struggle to be able to move up a year despite everything that has happened, and now Soda won't be at Will Rogers when I finally start there after summer. I can't stand it. He just can't leave school.

But then I feel ashamed. Darry had to, or chose to, not going to college just to take care of us. And I don't want him to work all that much either. It's not his fault his salary is not enough. It's not fair. Nothing is.

And there's only one person to blame for it. Sometimes I think it's me.

xXx

_It's cold where I stand. In front of my feet are two graves. One belongs to my parents. On the other's is Henry's name written. I turn around. My parents stand there, watching me silently._

_"I'm sorry," I tell them. They turn around._

_"I'm sorry!" _

_They start to walk away. I run after. "I'm _sorry_!"_

_No matter how fast I run, I can't catch up._

_Soda stands next to me, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," I plead him. "I didn't mean to."_

_"It doesn't matter, Ponyboy."_

_It does._

_He and Darry watch me with hollow eyes. "Look what we do for you. Look!" In their hands they holds money. The dollar bills rain to the floor. I sink down, picking them up._

_"I don't want them! I don't want them..." I try to give them back, but they refuse to take them. "I don't want them...I want Mom and Dad!"_

_"Please," I beg them._

_"They killed me," Henry whispers in my ear. The bills turns to bugs, and I drop them. I can't scream, no sound comes out._

_"You know what they do in places like that?" Henry says. "They dig holes. They make you bury your parents if you killed them."_

_I don't know where I am. Only me and darkness and voices.  
_

_"You know what happened? You killed them, Ponyboy!"_

_"It was your fault!"_

_"Your fault, Ponyboy!"  
_

_"Ask him what happened!"_

_"You killed them!"  
_

_I put my hands to my ears, flying up to sit.  
_

xXx

Soda hugs me. I stop screaming, and he gentle pulls my hands off my ears. He stroke my hair as I pant.

"Soda?" My voice is small.

"Yeah?"

"It's... what do ya think had happened if..." I swallow. I lie down again, hiding my face in my pillow. "I should've told them." I feel Soda's hand on my back. I think he knows what I'm trying to say, because he moves it up to my shoulder, shaking it a bit.

"Don't talk like that, Pone. You couldn't have done anythin'."

"But you can't know that," I say, muffled. "What if I could? What if I could but didn't?"

"Hey!" He grabs me harder, turns me around. "Don't talk like that, I said. Okay? It wasn't you, Pone. It was him."

It was him. I know that.

I just wish I could believe things had been the same even if I had acted differently.

xXx

I sit down on the bench. According to the timetable, it's only five minutes to the next bus. I know I shouldn't. Maybe he won't even be there. But I hope he will. I've gone to the cemetery three days in a row after school, despite what Darry said, in hope to see him again. I have thought about it. I just want to talk to him, that can't do me any harm, can it? If he had wanted to do something, he already had when we met the first time. I say to myself that I just want answers. That I owe that to my brothers, for what I am putting them through. But my reasons are more selfish than that, I know.

Someone comes from behind, puts their hands over my eyes, and I nearly scream, jumping up. Even though I know Henry's dead, I'm still jittery when I'm out alone. I'm so used to being scared that it seems to never get better. But when I turn around, I realize I should have known who's grin I would meet.

"Hey, Pone!" Two-Bit climbs over the back of the bench to sit down on the place I just left.

"Damn it, Two-Bit," I curse at him, putting a hand over my racing heart.

"Sorry," he offers me, and his grin disappears for a moment. He knows everything. Everyone in the gang does, I know my brothers told them. But we never speak about it. At least they don't when I'm around. I guess they talk when I'm not.

Two-Bit looks at the bus-sign, then at me. "Goin' someplace?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"To a friend," I lie.

Two-Bit looks up at the bus-sign again. "Funny. I could've sworn this bus goes by the cemetery," he says, easy-going, an eyebrow cocked.

I try to look innocent. "It does?"

"Knock it, Pone. It's me, good ol' Two-Bit. I know what you're up to."

I sigh at that. There's no point in hiding it. "Okay. I'm goin' there, but-"

He frowns slightly. "Didn't Darry say-"

"Yeah," I interrupt him."That's why you ain't gonna say anythin' to them."

He looks at me sternly. "You know I got no problem with lying, Ponyboy. But I ain't sure-"

"I am," I interrupt him again. I see the bus coming down the street. "C'mon. I just wanna visit my parents." I know that the card I play is unfair. Two-Bit has a bigger heart than he will ever confess, he won't deny me this. "I've done it lots of times already. He's not there. He never shows."

"Maybe I should come with ya, " Two-Bit offers, but I shake my head.

"I wanna be alone. Please, Two-Bit!"

He doesn't look sure, but the bus has stopped and opened its door, and I climb in. "It's all right," I say. "I promise."

I can wrap him around my finger.

xXx

I don't know what I'm doing. I can pretend, but I don't. Sometimes Darry says I'm not using my head, and I guess he's right. The only thing I can think about right now is that it's all my fault. I started this. If I had told my parents what was happening when I was little, they had known to be careful. They would have done something. At least they would never invite Henry into their car, and they hadn't crashed and died.

And then Darry had been able to go to college and Soda hadn't felt the need to drop out to start working. I know there's no way to fix this. Our parents are gone. Money will always be an issue.

I don't want an apology, that wouldn't help anyway. I guess I just want some sort of closure. What I have now is not enough. I hit the stop-button. Maybe he will be there today.

xXx

I smoke through a whole pack before he finally shows, just in time. I have just decided to go to be home before my brothers when I see him coming down the gravel. My heart speeds up where I stand leaning against the church wall, but I don't think he sees me. Not yet.

Like the last time, he sits down in front of the small headstone, bowing his head. I don't know if I should feel sorry for him. He looks sad. He lost someone too, even if his brother was a crazy killer. It's possible he never knew Henry's plans. Or maybe he did, and tried to stop him. If so, he's a victim too.

I leave my spot.

The gravel crunch under my shoes, and he hears me, sees me, flies up to his feet.

"What are you doin' here?" he hiss at me. He looks mad again.

"I'm... I just wanted to talk," I stutter. "I..." I don't know what to say. There's an awkward silence.

"Talk about what?" he growls at me after a while.

I stare down, licking my lips nervously. "Your brother-"

"Don't talk about my brother, _Ponyboy_ _Curtis_!" He spits my name. I flinch. But I'm determined. I want to know if someone had been able to stop Henry. If there had been anything I could have done. I hope he will say no.

'No, Ponyboy. He had done it anyway. You could've told the world, he had killed them anyway.'

I want those words. That's how I'm selfish. I don't want to feel guilty anymore. Somewhere I know it wasn't me, that I was just a little kid, I couldn't have done anything, and my brothers tells me that too. But feelings aren't always rational. I want him to say it too. He can know for sure.

"You _know_ what he did," I urge, taking a step back. "He..." The words won't come out so I change them. "It wasn't an accident. They - they died because of him."

"So?" he bites back.

That simple word makes me shudder. Suddenly I feel cold. Dizzy. I hug my arms around my body, swallows.

"So he really did it?" I whisper. "Hen-Henry killed them."

He smirks at me, gestures at the stone. "Can't you fuckin' read? It says Matthew."

I blink. "But - but he changed it."

The man in front of me doesn't deny it. He taps his pockets, picking up a pack of cigarettes. Lits one.

"You're here for the truth?" he says, his voice mocking. I don't trust my voice, so I just nod. The truth. I've searched for it so long. When I first stumbled upon a part of it, I didn't want it, but now, I do. I'm scared of it, but I need it.

"I ain't hidin' it," he says. "I don't really care if you know."

A small wind is blowing, making the smoke whirl my way. I can hear the traffic in the background, cars and buses and people outside the cemetery, but in here, it's like the time has stopped. It's only me and him. And the shadows of my parents and Henry, linking us together.

"Why?" I manage to choke out.

"Why I don't care? Why the hell should I?"

I shake my head. "No. Why did he do it? Why couldn't he... what did they do? They were my parents! I need them. I miss them." I hadn't planned to cry in front of him, but suddenly I feel hot tears running. It's strange, though. I don't care if he sees them.

"They were friends," the man says. "They betrayed him. Simple as that."

I shake my head again, more furious this time. "No! It wasn't like that. Just because my dad didn't want to do a robbery-"

"Shut up!"

I wince.

"You don't know a damn thing!" He spits on the ground. "They deserved to die because of what they did to... Henry. Your dad... it could've been him that sent him to prison, damnit. He stood him up. If they had stuck to the plan, they had made it. But your pa thought your ma was more important to please." His eyes are burning. "You know what happened to him there? In prison?" He doesn't wait for my answer. "I think you do. Or you don't wanna know."

I wipe my eyes. I can't believe he blames my dad for his brother's actions. "It was his own fault!"

The punch comes so quickly I don't even notice until I lie on the ground, blood dripping from my nose and mouth. At first I only move to curl up, scared and in pain, waiting for the next hit, but it doesn't come.

Slowly I sit up, stare up at him in fear. I'm so, so stupid. I sob quietly, catching the red drops with my hand. Carefully I feel after my teeth with my tongue, sure to find a gap, but they are all there. My mouth taste metallic.

Henry's brother has backed away. It's several feet between us.

"Say that again," he threats harshly, "and I will do more than just punch you." I cringe, knowing it's true.

I want to go home, but I'm too scared. I close my eyes, hoping he will be gone when I open them again, but he's not. I shouldn't have come by myself. I should have brought Soda. Or Two-Bit when he offered. I shouldn't have come at all. But it's too late now.

"I'll tell ya the truth. I hope it hurts," the man says. "It was so fuckin' easy. Your dad's so naive." He flicks away his cigarette butt on me, it bounce against my arm and falls on the gravel. Then he lits another one.

"That night. They were at the parking lot outside that fancy restaurant. Don't know how they could afford it though. Maybe your Mom worked for'em."

I know he just tries to insult her, but his words takes its hits. But I don't say anything. I've learned.

"We tapped their car of gas, so they didn't make it far. Of course we came to save them." He smiles. "At first your dad was actually happy. Start talkin' about the past and pretend he fuckin' cared about Henry. So Henry says to him, 'Hey, Darrel, how's your sons?' And he starts ramblin' about how fuckin' proud he is, so we interrupt him and says, 'As soon as we've taken care of you we'll take care of them too.'"

I know I'm already pale, but his words makes it hard to breathe. He helped him. The man in front of me is as guilty as Henry.

He smirks at me, and I know he can read me. "Your pa says 'What?' and you should've seen his face. It was hilarious." He shakes his head. "But a little hit to his temple put him out pretty quick. Not so tough then, huh? Your ma screamed but we told her to shut the fuck up, and she was smart enough to do it. Henry took the wheel. We put your parents in with no seatbelts of course. I knew the perfect spot. We didn't wanted any witnesses ya know. Then he just speed up and _bam_. " He claps his hands together, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. The sound makes me jump. "It went even better than we thought, when they all flew out of the car. Everyone just assumed your pa was the driver. That it was a fuckin' accident."

His words feels like knifes.

"I don't know how you figured it out it wasn't, though," he says to me. "Not that I care." He takes a step closer.

He's gonna kill me. I can't breathe. I can't warn my brothers like I couldn't warn my parents. It's all my fault... my fault... In my daze, I suddenly hear him laugh.

"Don't worry," he says to me. "We just wanted to scare them. Make them suffer before they died. I leave town next week. You'll never hear from me again. I won't touch you or your brothers." He walks to me, sits down on his heels in front of me. His hand grips my wrist, jerking my hand away from my face. It's red with blood.

"You see the hole in my story?" he asks me. When I don't respond, he shakes my arm until I shake my head. I don't know what he means.

"What would you do for your brothers?" he asks me. "Would you kill for them? Die for them?"

I open my mouth, but I'm unable to speak.

"He had a brain tumor, ya know. They gave him two months when they discovered it. There was nothin' they could do. They couldn't even treat it."

Somehow I find my voice. "Henry had cancer?" I whisper. Was that why he killed himself in the crash? He should die anyway.

The man laughs again. It's not a happy laughter. "No, stupid boy. Luke. My brother Luke!" He looks me in my eyes. "You sure have grown since we saw each other last time, Ponyboy Curtis."

It's not until then I finally realize who he is. My eyes widen as he rise.

He puts a finger to his mouth, then points at me. "I know you can keep a secret." He's still laughing when he starts to walk away. He doesn't turn around once.

**~The End~**

* * *

_*Chewing on my nails* First of all, I really hope you like this chapter and the end.  
_

_Second, I hope the plot seems realistic. I really want it to be, but to be honest, I didn't do research if it's even possible to "take" someone elses identity after the person has died. But my thoughts was, if there are two brothers who are alike each other (I haven't planned them to be twins), and you put the others identification on the one that will die, and later, after a wreck, the brother who's alive make an identification and says it's "him" - should it be possible? I don't think they take fingerprints and always does autopsy's on every traffic killed victim - I hope. This is also back in 1966 - without the knowledge about DNA. Maybe it was possible then, even if it maybe isn't possible today. If you think it's not realistic at all, I'm sorry. But even if I always prefer to write realistic, this is still fiction ;) and I wanted to end the story this way. So I did.  
_

_If you wonder why Henry didn't recognized Pony if he had watched him in town before - the man who watched Pony was just a coincidence and Pony's paranoid thoughts.  
_

_To my Guest anonymous reviewer: I'm sorry, I can't PM you since I don't know who you are. But if you read ch 10, you will know what happened in the park.  
_

_Thank you to all who has read, reviewed, added this story. I really loved writing it, more so thanks to your support! So thank you so, so, so much! If you want to leave a final thought, you will make my day!  
_


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